


hiraeth

by atomjenkins



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Needs a Hug, Akechi Goro is Bad at Feelings, Akechi Goro-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Scars, Self-Hatred, Swearing, Touch-Starved Akechi Goro, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, all takes place during third semester, also general looming sense of doom because well, feb 3rd is coming up, persona 5 royal spoilers, tbh it's mostly fluffy but with random deep conversations lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomjenkins/pseuds/atomjenkins
Summary: -- P5R SPOILERS --In the days leading up to Maruki's change of heart, Akechi spends some time with each of the Phantom Thieves.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Shuake - Relationship
Comments: 27
Kudos: 76
Collections: Quality Persona Fics





	1. ren i

**Author's Note:**

> p5r absolutely did not have enough of akechi interacting with the other phantom thieves so i decided to rectify that

_**"Had we but world enough and time, this coyness, my love, would be no crime."** _

* * *

_7 more days._

* * *

This is what he gets for letting his guard down.

Loathe as he is to admit it to anyone, Akechi has become quite fond of the time he spends at Leblanc – the frequent evenings of listening to the quiet music tinkling over the crackled chatter of the television, sipping a creamy cup of coffee in the warm glow of the café. The best evenings were when he could flip through a newspaper discarded by one of the other patrons and spend some time solving the crosswords and sudoku puzzles, or when Ren would indulge him in a game of chess. Unfortunately the latter was becoming fewer and fewer given their preparation for Maruki’s Palace, so often Akechi would find himself as Sojiro’s sole customer, staying late into the evenings just so he could watch Ren drag himself in from whatever errand he’d been running on that particular day, looking somehow both dishevelled and unflappable at the same time.

Today was not one of those days. Akechi sat, waiting patiently at Leblanc’s counter, working his way through a particularly fiendish sudoku (which unsurprisingly, none of the other patrons had even attempted) while Ren brewed him his usual cup of coffee. There was just the two of them in the quiet café tonight, but neither of them felt the compulsion to fill the silence between them with any unnecessary chatter – Ren hummed a simple melody to himself as he worked, Akechi occasionally tutted or sighed as he wrote – and a comfortable silence settled over the two of them.

Comfort – which was then promptly broken by the arrival of his coffee.

Akechi glanced at it dismissively as Ren placed the cup down beside him, but then immediately looked back for a closer look when he spotted something…concerning.

Ren often decorated his coffees with childish little drawings in the foam – things like cats, birds (crows, he assumed) and one particularly disastrous attempt at drawing Arsene, which had left the frothy surface of Akechi’s coffee looking rather sorry for itself – in order to ‘make the coffee that little bit extra special for you’, so Ren said.

Let it be known that Akechi _certainly_ didn’t encourage this behaviour. When Ren had presented his first (slightly lopsided) cat-coffee, Akechi had looked at him, then it, incredulously, before saying; “What on earth is this supposed to be?”

Ren had deflated slightly at that. “It’s Morgana!”

“…is that so?” Akechi had said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the art again. He remembered thinking at the time that Ren was probably lucky Morgana wasn’t there to see Ren’s…artistic interpretation of him. “Is it supposed to be…abstract?” He said, frowning.

Ren had laughed at that – a warm, wonderful sound that never failed to make Akechi feel slightly giddy. “No, it’s just not very good. Sojiro’s only just started teaching me…I haven’t got the hang of it yet.” He beamed – and his stupid, goofy smile made Akechi feel all warm and weird inside and he quickly averted his eyes to look at the misshapen cat instead. “But you know, practice makes perfect!”

“Yes, well…make sure you practice then.” Akechi’s voice came out in a strange, high-pitched tone. He cleared his throat. “You’ll drive the customers away if you continue to put on such shameful displays.”

He had felt Ren move closer to him and had stiffened when Ren spoke and his voice was almost directly in Akechi’s ear. “This kind of thing is reserved for only my most _special_ customers. My… _favourite_ customers.” He said, and Akechi could almost _hear_ the wink at the end of that sentence.

Akechi then made a noise that was a strange amalgamation of a squeal and a hum, and Ren had laughed again, moving back away from Akechi with this self-satisfied smirk on his face. Of course, Akechi couldn’t let _that_ be the end of the conversation.

“Fine.” He’d managed to say in a level tone. “Step up your game, then. Impress me with your mastery of beverage-based aesthetics. Or perhaps your favourite customer will find a new favourite barist– café.”

And so with that gauntlet thrown down, that challenge declared; from then on Ren would decorate Akechi’s coffees with these silly little drawings – and Akechi had to admit a couple of things. Firstly; as time passed, Ren had definitely gotten a lot better at it. What had started as vague blobby shapes now at least bore a pretty strong resemblance to their subject matter – Ren was no Yusuke, but clearly, the practice had paid off.

And secondly; the way that Ren would rush to the counter when he saw Akechi sitting there and would start brewing him a coffee (on some occasions oblivious to the fact that Akechi already had one); the way he would stick his tongue out slightly in the moments of intense concentration where he would add the finishing touches to his art; the way he was as grandiose and theatrical as Joker when he presented the coffee to Akechi (one especially embarrassing occasion sprang to mind, where Ren had served Akechi the coffee with a bow, flourish and declaration of; “For you, my _prince_.”, drawing out the last word with a devilish smirk – Akechi had hidden his face in his hands and gave a muffled response of “Please stop embarrassing me.” (in such a way that suggested he very much wanted to say; “Please die, you fucking court jester shithead.” instead) because _of course_ Ren had the good grace to perform that little stunt on one of Leblanc’s busier days); the way Ren earnestly watched Akechi study his creation, eyes as wide and innocent as a puppy’s; the way he always gave that same overdramatic pout when Akechi inevitably gave him some scathing comment (“Coffee is for drinking, not for drawing on, Amamiya.”) before promising to serve him something better next time with an infectious energy and sickening peppiness about him – all these _things_ that Akechi hated about Ren, he hated because they were just too damn endearing to bear. One could even call them adorable – ‘one’ being someone who wasn’t Akechi, obviously.

As previously stated, Akechi did _nothing_ to encourage this.

And so they’d settled into their little routine. Like all their other ‘little routines’ it had a mask of spirited competition and rivalry that had slowly been infected with a sense of comfort, a sense of familiarity, a sense of something…more. Akechi played the part of the harsh critic, Ren played the part of the enthusiastic learner who was always put down and got back up again. A childish story might depict the critic’s cold exterior slowly being worn away over time by the persistence of the learner, but Akechi was no child, and no fool either. He couldn’t afford for any sentimentality to seep into his interactions with Ren, not now, so close to the moment of truth – besides, it wasn’t like he deserved any real affection anyway.

But now the familiarity of their routine had been interrupted by what he saw in front of him. Sprinkled on top of his coffee was cocoa powder in the shape of a…heart. He frowned, and glanced at Ren for an explanation – but contrary to normal, Ren was quiet, just standing with his hands in his pockets, gaze fixed firmly on Akechi. No theatrical gestures, no overdramatic expressions.

“Do you want something from me?” was the first thing Akechi said. “Is that what…this is in aid of?”

Ren hummed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s…a peace offering.”

Akechi narrowed his eyes, very much not liking where this conversation was going – but at the same time, intrigued, as he infuriatingly found himself being a lot around Ren. “Do elaborate. Time is short – we’ve a deadline on the 3rd, after all…” He paused, before a realisation dawned on him. “If this is…something to do with our feud from before, I’ve already told you that –”

Ren quickly shook his head. “No, no, it’s nothing to do with that. You’ve said you’ll work with us, you haven’t got anything to gain by betraying us…no, it’s not about that. I trust you.”

 _I trust you._ Akechi really thought Ren would be smarter than that by now – but then again, he’d admitted to himself by this point that he would _never_ understand Ren. “Alright. So…?”

“You’ll work with us…but what then?” Ren looked like he was struggling to phrase what he wanted to say correctly. “What happens after we take Maruki’s heart, and reality returns to normal?”

Akechi’s heart began hammering in his chest. His fists clenched of their own accord. “…Things will go back to the way they should be.” He spoke slowly, carefully.

“What will you do?”

His breath hitched slightly and he dug his nails into the palms of his hands in an attempt to control himself. “I’m not…I don’t have to tell you that.”

Ren looked disappointed, which stung even worse than the pain from Akechi’s nails scratching his skin. “No…no, you don’t.” He said, as if in admission to himself. His gaze wandered to the floor.

Akechi’s heart was still pounding rapidly. “Was that it?”

“No…” Ren said, though he didn’t sound sure. After a moment, he looked at Akechi again, with renewed vigour. “No, I wanted to ask you…could you get some supplies tomorrow?”

Akechi blinked. “Pardon?”

“You know, I’m just kinda being pulled all over the place right now. I’ve got a list. It’d just…it’d be a big help.” At that, Ren produced a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and slid it towards Akechi, who looked down, slightly in disbelief. It did appear to be a shopping list of some kind, though not a typical teenager’s – several different shops were listed, among them a clinic, an airsoft shop…the neatly written letters began to swim and blur as Akechi’s attention was drawn back to Ren, who had now started speaking again.

“And um, Yusuke wanted some help with something this week too…think maybe you could lend a hand? I would but I have somewhere to be…Ann asked me to go somewhere with her, but I think you might like it better…Makoto’s having trouble with this one question on a paper, it’s beyond me…”

“Before you continue prattling on,” Akechi said, holding up a hand to silence Ren. “I would like you to answer one simple question.” He said, and Ren seemed to wilt slightly under his harsh glare. “Are you attempting to…set me up…on…” He paused, grimacing. “… _play dates_ …with the Phantom Thieves?”

Ren winced. “You…could have worded that better.”

Akechi glowered. “Your own pitch could also have benefitted from a rewrite.” He growled, plunging a spoon directly into the heart on his coffee, ruining it as he stirred. A childish gesture – but if Ren wanted to treat him like a child he felt justified in behaving like one. “Such an…immature, roundabout way to put this idea across to me…it’s unbecoming of you, Amamiya, and quite frankly, a little insulting.”

A pause. “…You’re right.” Ren admitted. “I’m sorry. I…didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I wasn’t trying to trick you or patronise you, it’s just…” He paused again, then held his hands up. “Well, no, actually, I shouldn’t…you’re right, I should have just been forward with you. Won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Akechi said, sipping his thoroughly-stirred coffee. “The coffee is delicious, by the way.” He said, in a considerably softer tone. “So, what is this proposition?”

Ren smiled at him, and leant over the counter so he was almost directly in front of Akechi now. “I just…the others have been talking about how they’ve tried to get in touch with you, sending messages and stuff, and you don’t respond. Or they try to talk to you after meetings and you just brush them off.”

“I’m busy.”

“Yeah.” Ren frowned. “They…they want to get to know you, Akechi. All of them. And, you know, if it’s really that abhorrent for you to spend time with them, you don’t have to, but…” He sighed. “Is there a reason…?” He didn’t finish, but Akechi could well imagine a myriad of responses.

_I can’t let them get too close because I fuck up everything I touch._

_I can’t have more things that people could use against me._

_I can’t have more reasons to want to stay here._

_I don’t deserve to have friends like that._

_I don’t deserve to be happy._

Instead, he says; “I’m not _interested_ in getting to know them. We have more important things to be dealing with.” He deliberately looks at his own reflection in his coffee, rather than Ren, but he can well imagine Ren’s expression – primarily disbelief, with just a dash of disappointment – one of the few times where he’d rather see his own reflection than that.

“Is there something wrong with letting people get close to you?”

Akechi’s hands clench around his mug. “Certain people getting close to certain others, yes.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, _why_?” He suddenly spits. “The last time you got close to me it ended with a bullet in your fucking head. And then I…” _No. Don’t say it._ He makes a pained guttural sound and forces his hands to his sides to stop himself launching the coffee cup across the room.

“Are you worried about hurting them?” Ren says gently, placing his hand lightly on Akechi’s shoulder. The simple gesture sent a shudder down Akechi’s spine – the warmth and tenderness sending his heart and mind racing. “That’s a chance they’re all willing to take, Goro.” The use of his given name grounded him immediately, and he risked a look at Ren, who was gazing at him with a damn near overwhelming amount of fondness. “Before we finish this and you disappear off to who-knows-where, can’t you just give yourself a chance to be happy too? You don’t have to make friends with all of them – you know as well as I do that that’s going to be difficult – but just…” He sighed again, softer this time. “They really do want to get to know you, Goro. The _real_ you. Don’t punish yourself any more, please. Even if you hate them by the end, don’t you think that’s better? To clear the air, rather than just have this weird…whatever this is that’s going on now?” He tapped the list he’d given Akechi earlier lightly, an encouraging smile on his face. “Look, I’m not going to force you, but just think about it, please?” Then the smile becomes a sly smirk. “…But of course, you can always hang out with me some more, if you really want.” A reassuring squeeze of Akechi’s shoulder, and then Ren’s hand is gone again, and Akechi’s head feels a little less fuzzy and confused.

It’s a long moment before Akechi manages to remember how to speak properly again, and all he says is; “Mm.”

And then, after a long sip of coffee; “I’ll…think about it.” He believes Ren when he says he won’t bring it up again if Akechi doesn’t want him to, but for some embarrassing reason he can’t quite understand, he has a feeling of not wanting to let Ren down. Ren didn't offer this up as a challenge he feels compelled to take on, it's a different feeling to that and yet the compulsion is no less commanding. He almost rolls his eyes at his stupidity, at his reckless abandonment of all logic in pursuit of his foolish _emotions_ – no, it’s probably better if he chalks it up to not wanting to leave behind any unresolved business when he’s gone rather than because of feelings of any kind. He has never been superstitious about ghosts and their unfinished deeds on the mortal plane before now but it seems as good a time as any to start, especially if it stops Ren looking at him in a hopelessly sappy way like he is currently.

Akechi flashes him what he hopes is a stern look. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Oh, you know.” Ren smiles. Akechi does _not_ know. Ren keeps smiling at him regardless. “…Thank you, Goro.” He says tenderly just a moment later.

“Why…?” Akechi starts, and flushes red immediately. Ren tilts his head quizzically. “Why, um…why a heart?” He says, swilling the coffee around in the mug.

Ren only smiles knowingly at him again. Akechi feels quite hot all of a sudden and very much doubts it’s anything to do with the coffee.

Again, letting his guard down. He makes a mental note not to do that around Ren again.


	2. morgana i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi spends some time with Morgana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings:  
> goro deliberately scalds himself with hot water and glorifies pain as a rebellion against maruki's reality in the first paragraph. there are also mentions of his scars and death. rest of the chapter is mostly fluffy shopping times with some deeper stuff at the end. enjoy!

**_"Know thy enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles, you will never be defeated."_ **

* * *

_6 more days._

The thought thrummed in his head like a heartbeat, the only thing louder than the pounding of the water against his skin. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, feeling the water cascade over him like molten fire. It’s far too hot – thousands of burning hot needles pinpricking his skin as they fall – but he’s past caring, and reaches blindly for the temperature knob to turn it up even higher. The intense heat is suffocating, clinging to his skin, hair and throat, and it’s scalding his skin, hurting like hell – but the pain feels wonderful, because pain is rebellion.

Pain is not what Maruki wants. Maruki wants him to be happy – but it’s Maruki’s version of happiness, and Maruki’s version of Akechi that gets to feel it. The plastic, polished, prim, proper, perfect Detective Prince who never hurts and can never hurt.

_That’s not him. It never was._

Sliding down the tiled wall of his shower so he’s sitting down, he continues to let the burning water gush over him. The stinging sensation in his skin is almost numbing now. He reaches for a pumice stone and begins to scrub roughly – he’ll burn and melt Maruki’s plastic version of Akechi away, and rip out every remnant of this reality from every pore of his skin. He’ll carve himself to pieces if it means he’ll still be _him_.

Sometimes the pain is the only thing that feels real. It reminds him that he’s alive, and that he’ll soon be dead, and that none of that matters because he’ll be _free_ and he won’t have to deal with any of this. But most of all it reminds him that he’s in control – it’s pain that Maruki doesn’t want him to feel, that isn’t permitted in his perfect little reality.

Finally turning the scalding water off, with his free hand he lightly traces over each scar on his chest, normally hidden away from the world. He counts each one because he doesn’t trust that Maruki isn’t slowly erasing them every time Akechi goes to sleep. He has so many now – from the tiny cuts and scratches that pepper his skin to the ugly faded red flowers that bloom where he sloppily stitched himself back together after his early Metaverse escapades. He hates every single one of these scars but he can tolerate them with the knowledge that each one is a blemish not only on his body but on what Maruki wants for him. The good doctor wanted to wash all of this away but Akechi would die before he’d let that happen.

Well. 6 more days.

_Still here. Still real. Still alive._

* * *

“I really thought Ren was joking about this.” Akechi said, for what felt like the hundredth time, hitching the bag containing Morgana up for what felt like the thousandth time. He really needed to ask Ren how he was able to lug this thing around for hours at a time so effortlessly – except he absolutely would not ask him that, because anything that Ren could do better than Akechi was an admission of failure on his part.

“Yeah, you’ve said that already.” Morgana replied, poking out of the bag. “But we really do need supplies, so…” Akechi felt the warm pressure of two little paws on his shoulder as Morgana craned his head around the bustling streets, struggling to see over the tops of peoples’ heads. “Uh…oh! Left here! Left left left!”

Akechi obeyed, and found himself in a considerably less busy alleyway off Shibuya’s Central Street. A couple of people eyed him warily – because in the shadows of a seedy alleyway, he looked either aggressively out-of-place or aggressively aggressive, he couldn’t really tell these days – but he proceeded unimpeded around the corner to stand in front of their destination. An airsoft shop – ‘Untouchable’, the neon green letters beamed down at him from above the door.

“I’ll not question how Amamiya came to know about this place.” Akechi said, pulling the shopping list out of his pocket to see how much of it came from in here.

“Blame Ryuji.” Morgana replied.

“Ah.” Akechi said, hitching the bag up again. Those two words were a fine explanation.

Entering, Akechi found the shop mostly empty, other than one customer fawning over some latest models of firearms and a surly looking staff member behind the counter, who gave Akechi an interrogative look as soon as he walked through the door. “Can I help you?” He said gruffly, looking Akechi up and down.

“Pardon me, sir.” Akechi said, in his most level, well-practiced polite tone, with a sugary sweet smile to match. “I’ve been sent along to purchase some model firearms by one of my…acquaintances, and he recommended this shop. Would you be able to help me?” He approached the counter and placed the list in front of the man, flashing another smile. He vaguely heard Morgana give a muffled mutter of; “It’s still kinda scary how easily you can do that…”

The man narrowed his eyes at Akechi, before his eyes flicked to the bag on his back, then down to the list. His morose expression softened into a husky laugh. “Ha, I recognise this writing.” He leant back in his chair. “So you’re friends with Amamiya-kun, huh?”

Akechi’s expression became slightly strained. “Something like that. He’s quite busy at the moment, so he’s sent me along instead.”

The man fixed Akechi with an unreadable expression. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Unlikely.” Akechi assured.

“I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before…” The man said, rubbing his chin, before shrugging. “Ah well, whatever. If you’re a friend of that kid’s, I can help you with this stuff…” He traced his finger down the list, mumbling to himself. “…oh, apart from this. Don’t stock this, you’ll have to look somewhere else.” He said, tapping the last item on the list. Akechi rolled his eyes. Typical of Ren to make this outing last as long as humanly possible.

Well, whatever, at least this wasn’t a total waste of time. The man began loading up a bag of weapons and armour, Akechi mentally checking each one off the list – a dangerous-looking set of brass knuckles for Makoto, a ridiculous-looking hammer for Ryuji – before handing over the required payment. Ren had given him an obscenely (in fact, worryingly) large amount of money with which to purchase the items – and since Ren had given Akechi permission to use his own judgement when it came to picking up items that weren’t on the list, he decided to indulge in a glitzy-yet-robust collar for Morgana that was only a few thousand yen (he assumed due to the low demand in an airsoft shop for cat collars) but was sure to provide some decent protection. Morgana’s eyes sparkled much like the rhinestones on the collar when Akechi passed it over his shoulder and into Morgana’s bag without a word. The purr it elicited from the cat was quite rewarding, in a strange way.

Departing, and with the bag on his shoulder now considerably more heavy and obnoxious to carry, Akechi began making his way back through the busy Shibuya streets, stopping briefly to purchase a drink from a nearby vending machine. He desperately needed some sugar in his system – the day had just started and he already felt exhausted.

He cursed under his breath as he fumbled with the keypad, concentration faltering. Before, he’d been able to juggle his three lives – the life of the diligent student, the Detective Prince and the Metaverse assassin – all while smiling for the cameras and turning in every top-grade essay on time and having the occasional billiards break with Ren. No one would ever suspect that the unflappable prodigy often collapsed on the sofa when he got home to his apartment, too tired to even change for bed or heat up some instant ramen. And now here he was, struggling to work a vending machine in the middle of the street because he was too damn tired to even think straight. He felt like utter shit nowadays – and completely lacked the motivation to pretend he felt otherwise. He wondered if using his ability to turn people psychotic on himself was now coming back to bite him the ass with some weird side effects, or maybe being dead for a while had something to do with it. Or maybe he _was_ just tired. Tired of _everything_.

He downed half his newly-acquired drink to stop himself thinking too much about it, the sugar so overwhelmingly sweet it felt like it burnt his tongue. As he stood at the side of the street and sipped, tonguing the sugar clinging to the inside of his mouth like plastic, Morgana popped out of the bag again and watched the people passing them by, his tail flicking idly from side to side. Akechi wondered if he should try to start a conversation, but before he could even clear his throat, Morgana had begun talking for him.

“I never noticed before but…everyone’s smiling.” He said, in a wistful tone.

Akechi paused, and looked closer at the people passing him by, and saw that Morgana was right – the same eerily wide smile was pasted onto everyone’s faces, like the entire crowd was in on some joke that Morgana and Akechi didn’t get. Well, he supposed that wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“It’s…kinda creepy.” Morgana said quietly, and Akechi felt him tense on his shoulder.

Akechi shrugged. “They all think they have something to be happy about. For them, every wish is coming true, they don’t know it’s not real. They probably can’t even notice us, because if they were to see us they would start questioning things. ‘Why aren’t those people smiling?’ and then ‘Why are _we_ smiling?’ And so it would all spiral out of control.” He frowned. “Disgusting.”

Morgana gave a small hum, and when Akechi glanced at the cat, he saw a rigid expression of discomfort. Maybe he should have been less harsh with his choice of words, given how Morgana had not too recently had that same fake smile plastered on a falsely human face and was probably still a little sensitive about it, but Akechi found it more insulting to take the edge off his true feelings for the sake of others. And so he remained silent, and again, Morgana spoke up.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid…” he said with a small, sad sigh. “To not see what was right in front of me, to just get swallowed up in the moment…” he shook his little furry head in frustration, before looking at Akechi, his bright blue eyes shining with intense earnest. “Hey, Akechi…thanks.”

Akechi blinked. “Huh? For what?”

“For looking out for Ren when I wasn’t…well, you know, when I wasn’t around. He would have been alone in all this if it wasn’t for you. So…thank you.”

Akechi’s cheeks flushed pink and he looked at the ground immediately. “I didn’t…I wasn’t _looking out_ for him. I just…happened across him. That’s all.” He frowns, and takes another big swig of his drink to prevent himself thinking about how he would have been alone too – if not for Ren. He hadn’t even known Ren would be in his proper state of mind when he’d gone to Leblanc…yet that was the first place he’d thought of going. He tried hard not to think about the panic that had seized his heart when he’d entered Leblanc, not knowing whether Ren would be his usual self or whether he would have abandoned Akechi to face this claustrophobically cloying world alone.

He practically heard the cogs in Morgana’s brain turning as he considered what to say next. “Ren told me what happened on Christmas Eve – what you did, helping him out of jail and everything.”

“I was merely repaying my debt to him. Nothing sentimental about it.” Akechi insisted.

A pause. “You helped all of us out before too. You…”

“Could we please…?” Akechi tapped the list forcefully and set off walking again, with such speed that Morgana nearly toppled off his shoulder with a startled yelp. Once the cat had regained his balance, he yowled; “Do you even know where you’re going?! Are you just walking to avoid talking to me?”

Akechi pointedly didn’t answer and instead looked down at the list, searching for the marked item that wasn’t available in the airsoft shop, before screeching to a halt when he reached it, his heart thumping.

_For Goro – Proof of Justice_

Ignoring the screeches from Morgana about how he was the “worst bag driver in Japan” he began striding through the crowd of maddening smiles with a new destination in mind – Akihabara.

* * *

Once on the train, he sat down heavily with a deep sigh. The carriage was blissfully empty – only a couple of other people. Still, he looks at Morgana sternly.

“You’re going to have to be quiet, I haven’t paid the pet fare.”

Morgana hisses at him. “Is this just another excuse to shut me up?”

Akechi smirks. “Obviously not. I just like to give the impression I’m a law-abiding citizen. It makes day-to-day life a lot easier, you know.”

Morgana furrowed his brow. “Akechi…I…I know how it feels to bottle everything up, to hide how you’re feeling from other people, to keep making excuses not to let people see…parts of yourself you hate.” He paused. Akechi could hear his heart thrumming in his ears, drowning out the rumble of the train. “If you really don’t want to talk, that’s fine, I just…”

Akechi glanced out of the window, watching the cityscape rolling by. “I…sorry.” He said quietly. “I’m sorry.” He said again, to make sure Morgana heard him. “I’m trying to be more…personable…it’s…” He sighed. “This is all just…tiring.” He fiddled with his gloves anxiously, then yawned, as if proving his point.

Morgana studied him for a moment. “Hey, why don’t you have a quick nap while we’re on the train?”

Akechi blinked. “Now?”

“You look tired.” Morgana said gently. “Plus it’s a little while to Akihabara. I’ll let you know when we’re there.” He didn’t wait for Akechi’s response, just curled up in the bag and settled down, his eyes on the carriage displays.

Akechi supposed a quick nap wouldn’t hurt, as he found himself yawning again. Plus he was reassured by the fact that Morgana would make sure they didn’t miss their stop or have their possessions stolen…the idea was tempting. He tipped his head back against his seat’s headrest and let his eyes slip shut, the rumble of the train sending vibrations through his body…or was that purring he felt…?

* * *

Two little paws prodded insistently at his chest. “Akechi, wake up. We’re here.”

He stirred quickly, shaking his head to clear the sleepy haze that had settled there as he exited the train and started making his way to Electric Town. He had barely left the station platform before Morgana was perched on his shoulder again.

“Do you feel any better?”

“Much.” He mumbled, tossing his emptied drink bottle into a bin. “Thanks.”

“It’s alright.” Morgana said, in that strange gentle way again. “I can’t believe I’ve met someone more sleep-deprived than Ren.”

“Oh?” That was surprising. Ren never seemed tired – true, he never came across as the most high energy person, at least outside of the Metaverse, but as Joker, his commands came quick, his precision and power unfaltering. “His hair certainly looks like he sleeps a lot.” Akechi said, and Morgana snorted.

“That’s true…but man, it’s difficult to get him to slow down. School, studying, training, meditating, Palace infiltration, working like…at least 3 part-time jobs, going to Mementos…there’s not enough hours in the day for all the stuff he wants to do. Heh…I’m sure he’s told you about all the times I’ve made him go to bed early. It’s my responsibility to make sure our leader’s in top form, right?”

“Mm.” Akechi said, distracted. Ren had such a busy schedule…yet he’d made time for Akechi. Every one of his texts had been answered straight away, Ren had indulged him in his silly billiards games and his stupid Mementos duel…on top of everything else, he’d carved out a space in his life for _Akechi_.

He shuddered suddenly, and Morgana fell silent for a moment.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, and Akechi didn’t fail to notice how he rubbed his little head against Akechi’s hair with a soft purr.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Akechi said, then berated himself internally at how the lie had come as naturally to him as his next breath. Morgana’s concerned gaze felt like it was burning into the side of his head, and his natural response was to put up the familiar veil of the always genial Detective Prince, who wandered through life with nary a concern to wrinkle his brow, just the same sunny smile and disposition regardless of whether he was conversing with a fan, a television presenter or a suspect in a fiendish case.

He had promised Ren he wouldn't be that person anymore.

“No, I’m…I’m not sure. I was just…I was just thinking about how Ren…made time for me, I suppose. Indulged all my selfish requests, even when he was so busy. And even after he knew…after _you all_ knew I was not one of you…didn’t he have better things to be doing?”

It was a while before Morgana spoke, and he seemed to speak slowly, as if considering the implications of each word. “Well…maybe…maybe Ren thought he could change your mind. Or maybe he just…wanted to believe he could.”

That sounded about right. Always the hopeful, naïve optimist, always trying to believe the best of people, even when the person in question was the worst example of what humanity had to offer. Ren must have known that Akechi would never back down from his plan – his pride and purpose entangling him far too deeply in Shido’s web for Akechi to cut himself free, even if Ren pulled him out – and yet still he’d tried.

Typical. Ren would rather die than give up on someone – chillingly, Akechi thought, _he almost did._

Morgana startled him out of his train of thought. “I did too.”

“You…what?”

The cat shifted on his shoulders, pawing at him. “I wanted you to change your mind.”

They both went quiet.

_I did too._

“Can I ask you something?” Morgana said quietly.

“Sure.”

“When you first met Ren, did you know he was a Phantom Thief?”

Akechi blinked. “At the TV studio?” It felt like a lifetime ago. “He certainly…caught my eye rather quickly. I thought…I thought if anyone could be a Phantom Thief, it would be him. A teenager seemed to be the most likely culprit, a Shujin student even more so, given that Suguru Kamoshida was the Phantom Thieves’ first target. He met all the basic criteria…and…well, I need hardly describe how Ren is…different from other people, even at a glance.”

 _Quiet, yet possessing the courage and determination to take action_. _Under different circumstances…_

Akechi shook his head. “He certainly…intrigued me. The way he spoke about the Phantom Thieves as though they were justice itself…well, I had no trouble believing it was possible he could be a Phantom Thief. But that was pure speculation – I didn’t draw my conclusions until later.”

“Is that why you asked to spend time with him?”

Akechi frowned. “Well…partly. But also because…well, I found him interesting. I suppose it was beneficial in multiple ways. If he was a Phantom Thief…well, I’m sure you know the expression about knowing your enemy. If he wasn’t…he made for an intriguing partner in conversation.”

“So…isn’t what you’re saying that Ren became as big a part of your life as you did of his?” Morgana said, with faux innocence that it didn’t take the razor-sharp mind of an ace detective – even a fraudulent one – to see through. “It’s only natural you’d be drawn together though, being wildcards and all. Plus you’re similar in a lot of other ways.” Morgana said thoughtfully.

Akechi cleared his throat. “Mm. Well, yes, enough of all that.” He felt as though he had endured what felt like a horribly exposing conversation for long enough. “Though, out of the two of us, I’m obviously the more handsome one.” He flipped his hair and flashed his prettiest smile to demonstrate his superiority in this regard.

Morgana chortled.

* * *

This had been a stupid idea.

The toy gun sat there, taunting him from behind the glass pane and plastic display case. It looked cartoonishly oversized and unwieldy, with an assortment of garish flashing lights and shiny colourful buttons that were probably just for show. The box was similarly decorative, all bright colours and explosive declarations – _One for all, all for justice! Put your hearts together with your friends and pierce through! This is the true ‘Proof of Justice’!_

Childish. That's all this had been.

“Akechi?” Morgana said softly, concerned. “Are we…going in?”

“No.” Akechi said firmly, turning away from the window display. “You know what? This was a bad idea.”

“Huh?” Morgana cried. “But…but we came all this way…”

“I think Ren was trying to make a joke or something. A bad joke.” Akechi brandished the list dangerously. “Or there’s been some confusion…we’d best head home for now, I think.” He forced himself to start walking, briskly, in the direction of the train station.

“Wh–?” Morgana said, sounding slightly dazed. “But Ren said…he said you’d mentioned this specific model to him before!”

Akechi bristled. “Just…just in passing!” He could not help how his voice raised slightly. Thankfully the smiling crowds seemed blissfully ignorant of their surroundings as usual. “I didn’t…nothing was meant by it!”

“Oh for–” Morgana growled, then abandoned ship, leaping off Akechi’s shoulder and landing neatly on the floor so Akechi nearly tripped over him.

“What the– you little shit! Watch where you’re going!” Akechi snapped, just about maintaining his balance and dignity. “What the hell was that for?”

But Morgana had already scampered away in the direction they’d just come from, parking himself on a bench just outside the shop, licking his paw defiantly.

Akechi grumbled and stomped over to tower over the cat. “What was the point of that little stunt, exactly?”

Morgana glowered up at him. “You drag me all the way here, then you decide to just turn around and leave without any explanation?”

“ _I_ dragged _you_?” Akechi spluttered in disbelief. “I don’t…I didn’t even _want_ to come here! You think I don’t have better things to do then spend my time with some cat?”

“I’m not a– look, that doesn’t matter! You’re here now, so why won’t you just _talk_ to me?”

Akechi huffed and pointedly ignored him. “Just like I thought it would be, this has been a total waste of my time.” He shot Morgana a warning glance. “I don’t need you to get back home, you know. I could just leave you here.” He took a step away from the bench.

Morgana hissed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Oh, a challenge, was it? Akechi took a larger step away. “Oh, I _would_.”

Morgana flattened his ears against his head. “Ren will be annoyed if you go home without me.”

Akechi narrowed his eyes. “As if I’m concerned with his opinion of me.”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? So you obviously listen to him _sometimes_.” Morgana smirked, then sat down on the bench again, looking Akechi up and down. “Look, you can trust me when I say that you don’t solve anything by pushing other people away. Believe me, I know it’s difficult to swallow your pride and let people help you but…I’m offering.” He purred, softly.

Akechi sighed, and after a moment, sat down beside Morgana on the bench. They sat in contemplative quiet for a while, watching the distorted world pass them by, before Akechi reached out and lightly scratched behind Morgana’s ears, which elicited a loud purr from the cat.

“I…I think I know that Ren…and you…don’t intend to make a mockery out of me.” He began, carefully. Morgana’s ears pricked up. “With…the stupid toy, I mean. But…it seems…inappropriate.”

“Why?”

He scoffed. “I really need to explain it?” He said, his voice tinged with a bitter edge that he quickly suppressed. “I am _not_ a hero of justice. I only pretended to be…you know, when I was younger. It was just a childish game. Kids’ stuff.” Joining the Phantom Thieves as Crow, as brief as it had been, had felt like a gloriously self-indulgent time – a return to his childhood, leaping around performing acrobatic stunts and exclaiming heroic catchphrases. How wonderful it had felt to be able to pretend – just for a moment – that he was on the right side of justice, that he was the good and honourable hero his mother had always wanted him to be. "It's not who I am...it never was."

“You know, I’ve been wondering about that.” Morgana said, surprisingly perkily. “The Metaverse reveals every corner of a person’s heart, right? Even the things they try to keep locked away will eventually surface. So with that in mind, is it even possible to _fake_ a Persona? It’s a reflection of the deepest, truest feelings of a person’s heart, after all…”

Akechi clasped his hands together and rested them on his lap, not responding.

“Akechi…” Morgana said gently. “Robin Hood can’t have been based just on a need to deceive us – just on a lie. You had an outfit and everything – an identity born purely from deception would have faltered, or had cracks, or _something_ would have been wrong about it. But it was flawless. So it can’t just be kids’ stuff, right? Even if you don’t believe yourself to be a hero of justice…you still at least believe in that _idea_ of justice, don’t you?” He scratched lightly at his ears. “Robin Hood and Loki are _both_ parts of you, both equally and wholly your heart’s true feelings manifested. Two sides of the same coin…heh.” He shook his head. “Food for thought.”

Akechi tightly gripped his hands together to stop them from shaking. “Mm.” Was all he was prepared to offer in response. Food for thought indeed.

Morgana leapt onto his lap and batted at his hands playfully. “You don’t have to answer. I get it. But personally, I can’t think of a more appropriate weapon for you.”

“Is that…” Akechi’s voice comes out hoarse. He clears his throat before trying again. “Is that why…you hoped I would…change my mind about…?”

Morgana looked a little sad, his ears drooping slightly. “Yeah…that desire to be a hero was obviously still a really big part of you…I hoped it would win out. Plus…well, I don’t know if you knew this, but…before we went after Okumura, I left the team for a bit. I felt like I had nowhere to go, like I didn’t belong with those guys. I was…really selfish, and made some dumb decisions.” He winced at the memory. “But…they offered to help me despite that, and gave me another chance. And they’re…like my family now. I know where I belong in the world now and it’s with the Phantom Thieves. And I guess…I wanted that for you too. I know what you did in the past might make things a little more...complicated, especially with the others, but I...want to give you another chance. Or just... _a_ chance, I suppose, the world didn't really give you any to begin with, huh?” He buried his face in Akechi’s leg. “Ah jeez, waaayyyy too sappy, I’m sorryyyyy.”

His muffled yet dramatic speech made Akechi chuckle slightly, despite himself. Morgana sat up again, eyes shining brightly. “But hey, I guess I was right! That part of you _did_ win in the end, huh? Everything’s coming up Mona! Heheheh!” He gave a victorious meow, and Akechi ruffled his fur lightly.

“…Thank you, Morgana.”

Morgana purred in response, and Akechi felt a warm swelling in his chest. He wouldn’t pretend to understand why the cat insisted on being nice to him – but then again, he wouldn’t pretend he didn’t appreciate it either.

“Hey!” Morgana said, leaping up to his place on Akechi’s shoulder. “After we get your gun, we’re all done with shopping, right? How about we get some sushi?”

“Conveyor belt?” Akechi wondered.

Morgana yowled. “Noooo, the good stuff! C’monnnn Akechiiiii, pleaseeee!” He begged, his eyes growing wide and innocently pleading, but his little smirk betrayed a mischievous intent. “Ren did say we could spend the money how we wanted…we can just say one of the swords was more expensive than we were expecting! Plus it’ll probably be super cheap anyway, because everyone’s so generous now! We need to take advantage of this before the change of heart! We–”

Akechi raised his hand and Morgana fell silent. “I was literally sold at ‘No, the good stuff’. There has to be some benefit to this twisted reality, right? It’s only fair that we indulge ourselves a little, as the saviours of the world.” He allowed himself a smirk as wide as Morgana’s.

“Yesssss! Fatty tunaaaaaaaaaaa!” Morgana cheered, purring wildly as they headed into the shop.

 _This was all still a stupid idea_ , Akechi thought. But then again, he never claimed to be anything more than a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a recurring theme of this fic is that goro akechi needs sleep


	3. yusuke i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi spends some time with Yusuke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we are getting right into some of the darker subject matters that this fic has to offer, huh? i'll be honest, i went back and forth on this chapter a lot and i'm still not sure if i'm entirely happy with it, but here it is!!
> 
> content warnings:  
> lots of talk about scars, disillusionment, mentions of past (child) abuse and death throughout this chapter. the last few paragraphs also have some romanticised ideas about dying (akechi's all about that 'death as free person vs. living as a slave' stuff). also, partial nudity, but what did you expect from a yusuke chapter XD

_**"Never rush the art, perfection takes time."** _

* * *

Not for the first time – and probably not the last – Akechi wonders how Ren talked him into this.

“Thank you once again for agreeing to take part in this study, Akechi.” Yusuke says, bustling around the room, from one side to the other, then back again, then pausing, realising something has been forgotten, then back again he goes. Akechi notes he rambles with a distracted tone to his voice – little wonder, as he carts paints and sketchbooks back and forth, seemingly endlessly. “Ren is a wonderful model – Ann too, when she agrees to partake – but a little variety should help to inspire me even further in my work, don’t you think?”

“Quite.” Akechi says, bemusedly watching Yusuke heft a large easel – with surprising strength considering his skinny frame – from one side of the room to the other. “Ren said something to that effect.” He added, tone clipped. “If I might ask, Kitagawa-kun, this modelling…what exactly did you have in mind?” He’d heard tales of how Ren and his little band of thieves had first gotten caught up in the investigation of Ichiryusai Madarame – and he could quite easily imagine Ren, with his horribly warped sense of humour, thinking that sending Akechi to a nude modelling session with Yusuke would be ‘funny’.

Yusuke had finished setting up his easel and was now propping up a large canvas on it. He stuck his head over the top to address Akechi. “Ah, I have nothing particular in mind. It’s true that I am always looking for opportunities to depict models in…” He frowned ever so slightly, as if searching for the right terminology. “…states where they are…exposing themselves in some way, be it physical, emotional, mental…I enjoy painting depictions of what I believe to be the essence, the heart, the soul of individuals.” He smiled vacantly, his gaze drifting, before glancing back at Akechi like he’d forgotten he’d began that sentence addressing another person. “However, I would like you to be comfortable. That is of paramount importance.” He nodded at Akechi assuredly.

“Well, um…” Akechi blushed slightly. “If it would…ah, assist in your drawing, I don’t mind…um, just…?” He gestured vaguely to his shirt.

Yusuke smiled at him with unexpected warmth. “Let’s see how we proceed for now. That may not be necessary.” He brought his hands up in a familiar gesture, his fingers forming the shape of a frame, and peered at Akechi through one inquisitive eye. “Hmm…yes…ah, please assume whatever position you find comfortable, you’ll have to hold it for some time.”

Akechi nodded, and sat on the chair Yusuke had provided him in the centre of the room. Despite being used to performing in front of large crowds, he still sometimes found himself a little uneasy in one-on-one situations – but there had to be some experience from his Detective Prince career that he could draw from.

Oh, of course – he’d tried to push it out of his memory due to the tedium, but he’d been subjected to many a promotional photoshoot at the height of his career…he supposed that wasn’t too dissimilar to what Kitagawa was asking of him.

As if by instinct, he neatly crossed his legs, rested his hands on his knee, straightened his back slightly, and smiled sweetly at Yusuke, settling into a familiar pose. He’d heard good things about Yusuke’s artistic abilities from Ren, so hopefully he would be able to pick up on all the subtle nuances Akechi had become well-practiced in by now – this exact pose, this exact smile, the exact right lighting and setting; he’d been assured multiple times over that this made him ‘formal but relaxed, approachable but mysterious, warm yet serious’ and many other ridiculously contradictory things by producer after producer after producer. Oh well, the specifics didn’t matter – _this_ was something Akechi could do, and do well. And most importantly, do for a long time.

Once Akechi was in position and Yusuke had closed the curtains so that the lighting was to his satisfaction, the artist took his place behind his easel and began working, and for a while the only sound in the room was the light scratching of his pencil on canvas.

Then heavy scratching, like something was being furiously scribbled out. Yusuke glanced at Akechi again, looking a little frazzled.

Akechi’s smile did not falter.

More scratching – light flicks and short strokes of lead on canvas. How long had it been now? Akechi did not dare glance around in search of a clock.

More scribbling. Yusuke shot him a thinly-veiled expression of exasperation.

“Hmm, it seems this is not working. My apologies, Akechi, but could you perhaps try something different?”

He silently complied, uncrossing his legs and leaning backward, resting his arms on the back of the chair and his gaze now slightly off to the side, his smile even sunnier, like he was engrossed in a particularly interesting conversation, or at least very convincingly pretending to be interested. Yusuke nodded and began drawing again, but it wasn’t long before he was crossing out what he’d drawn again, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“No…no, this isn’t working…” he muttered, just barely audible.

“My apologies, Kitagawa-kun.” Akechi said, immediately deflating into a more natural position, the fake smile slipping easily from his face. “It may just be that I’m not a very good model.”

Yusuke seemed startled. “Oh…no, no, Akechi, not at all, the fault lies with me. I find it difficult to see…” he trailed off, fixing Akechi with a curious expression. “Hmm…perhaps taking your shirt off would help?”

Akechi could feel his cheeks growing hot at the completely nonchalant way Yusuke said that. “Um…well, if you think that would help…?”

Yusuke nodded. “I believe the problem at the moment is that while your poses are visually appealing, they lack the stimulation for what I want to draw. Please don’t feel as though you have to put on a front with me. I would like this to be as natural as possible, as true to yourself as you can be.”

Akechi narrowed his eyes. “Well, in a manner of speaking…you’ve already seen my true self.”

_Just picturing it sends chills down my spine…what Shido thinks of me? Ha ha…ha…I don’t give a shit! All I care about now…is killing you…to prove…I’m **better than you!**_

He remembered that time in the engine room all too well, when he had turned himself into a wild, manic creature in a last attempt to kill the Phantom Thieves; the unbridled chaos, vitriol and hatred in his unchained heart laid bare – angry, desperate, and ultimately _futile_.

He swallowed. “It’s…not exactly pretty. Or at least, not the sort of thing suitable for art.”

The Phantom Thieves had also seen Shido’s cognitive version of him – some wretched little thing clinging to the most meagre displays of affection like a parasite – and Shido had seen through all his lies, all his trickery, all his masks from the start, so could there ever be a more accurate depiction of Goro Akechi than that?

Yusuke frowned. “As I recall, you were under the effects of an ability that unshackled your heart, so your behaviour and personality cannot fully be called your own in those moments. “The…only time I think you were being true to yourself was…when you…”

The unspoken words hung heavily in the air.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the two of them as they remembered the same scene, from opposite sides of a bulkhead door.

Yusuke glanced at the ground. “I apologise…I did not mean to…drag up old memories…” His shaky voice was suddenly gripped by passion. “…but I do think that somewhere under all the anger and distrust is the heart of someone I would like to know more. And I would like to capture the essence of that heart on my canvas so that I can better understand it, and the person it belongs to. I would like you to just be yourself.” He looked at Akechi seriously for a moment, then clutched at his heart and wiped his brow in mock offense. “Besides, what sort of artist would I be if I valued things merely based on their aesthetic value? It is true that does play a part, but I find there is beauty in what many others find unappealing. I’m sure you of all people must understand…” His tone turned gentle, tender. “…there is often more to a person than the mask they wear to face the world.”

Akechi was quiet. He had given up trying to understand Kitagawa a good three sentences ago, but he understood the sentiment behind his words well enough – even if he thought himself wholly undeserving of them, he could at least appreciate what he was trying to say, so he nodded and mumbled a quiet thanks as he pulled his shirt over his head, not meeting Yusuke’s eyes. He folded his shirt and set it aside, then fidgeted with his gloves uncomfortably. “These too…?” He asked uncertainly.

Yusuke spoke with that strange gentleness again. “If you would prefer not to, then please, don’t feel pressured.”

Akechi hummed and left his gloves in place, taking his seat again, not nearly as at ease like this. He could feel Yusuke watching him and turned to finally meet his eyes. As he’d expected, Yusuke was looking at the assortment of scars etched into his skin – but unexpectedly, he was not looking with an expression of horror, shock or even pity, but a strange mixture of sorrow and curiosity.

“These marks…are they…?” Yusuke said slowly, his eyes roving over Akechi’s chest before dropping to the ground, as if he were ashamed he had spoken. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t pry…”

“It’s fine.” Akechi shrugged. “They’re mostly from Shadows.” He picked at a faded burn mark, unable to meet Yusuke’s eyes. “I wasn’t adept at navigating the Metaverse when I first started out…wasn’t used to fighting, I suppose. Made more mistakes.” He sighed, drawing his arms around himself and hugging his own body tightly.

When he and Ren had gone to the bathhouse together, Ren’s skin had been so perfect compared to his own, like porcelain – because, Akechi bitterly reasoned, Ren had his friends with him when he first tried to traverse the Metaverse; back-up that Akechi hadn’t had the luxury of. Ren hadn’t said anything, he’d only looked and given this small, sad little smile – and that had been all that was needed.

Even back then, Ren had understood Akechi so well – which Akechi had loved, and had hated too.

Then on Christmas Eve, he’d noticed some bruising on Ren’s skin, presumably from his time in police custody. That had made him feel sick – what made it worse was that the police had done no such thing to _him_ during his brief time in detention. Most likely due to Maruki’s influence, he reasoned – or maybe because they saw how damaged he was already and thought his body might snap in half under the slightest pressure.

He hated that he hadn’t noticed Ren was hurt when they met in the engine room.

“Others from some of my foster parents. I went through quite a few.” He tried to say it casually, but Yusuke’s concerned gaze broke his concentration. “All of them are from…Shido, in some form or another, I suppose.” Akechi spat the name – he hadn’t spoken it in so long, it tasted foul and burned his tongue like acid. But that was old anger, faded like the scars themselves – it was deeply rooted in him but he was used to quelling it by now, so when he spoke again it was with a level tone. “Kitagawa-kun, are you sure this would be appropriate for your drawing? Unless you’re attempting to capture…I don’t know…wretchedness…ugliness…something of that sort, I think there are more suitable models available.”

Yusuke tilted his head quizzically. “You…see yourself like that?”

Akechi almost laughed at the idiocy of the question. “Of course. How can you see me any differently?” He tightened the grip on his arms, leaving small white marks where his nails bit his skin. _An ugly soul in an ugly body, with a rotten heart to match_ – that was how most saw him, if they cared enough to look past his carefully constructed mask and even lay eyes upon his real self.

“I don’t.” Yusuke eventually said, so quietly that Akechi thought he must have imagined it.

Then again, louder and clearer; “I don’t see you like that at all.”

Before Akechi could even turn his head to gawk at the other boy in disbelief, he heard Yusuke stand and approach him. There was a moment of hesitation – Yusuke paused, just a few paces away, watching Akechi with a curious look while Akechi just stared back blankly – Yusuke looked like he was figuring out how to handle a cornered animal that could snap at any time, bite the hands extended in gestures of caring and comfort. And maybe other people – many other people – would think better of it and walk away; they’d see Akechi’s hunched and coiled position and the intense ferality burning in his eyes and they’d think he wasn’t even worth trying to get close to at all. But what had Ren said? _Yusuke isn’t like other people._

The brief pause had lasted only a moment and Yusuke was suddenly standing right next to him, looking down at him with an unreadable expression. He reached out – Akechi thought he meant to touch him at first and tensed – but Yusuke’s fingers hovered just above Akechi’s skin, tracing along the red lines of faded scars, his movements as slow and deliberate as his paintbrush against a canvas. Even with no physical contact, Akechi couldn’t stop himself from shivering slightly, before he realised Yusuke was speaking to him, in a low, soft mumbled tone.

“The tale of your life…etched permanently into your skin…a story behind every scar…” he said, frowning slightly as if he lacked the words to fully express what he was thinking. “How can you not think that beautiful?”

Akechi scoffed, casting his gaze away from Yusuke’s earnest eyes, his hair falling over his face. Why did Yusuke speak of his scars in such a romantic term as _stories,_ like they were something to be proud of? It was true enough that there was a tale behind each one, but none of them were tales he’d care to recount or preserve on the pages of a book.

“Each time you let someone hurt you, leave a mark on you, it’s a failure on your part.” He said coldly, clenching his jaw as he felt a hot stinging behind his eyes. “They’re just a sign of weakness…a sign that you’re _not good enough_ …” His breathing became laboured and he furiously fought to regain composure, frantically wiping at his eyes.

“…Akechi…”

“ _Don’t._ ” Akechi snarled, whirling around to glare at Yusuke, who drew his hands away immediately. “Don’t…I don’t want your… _fucking pity_ …” He rasped. The grip on his arms was so tight now, his nails felt like claws that would soon puncture his skin and draw blood – if the Detective Prince was a shield, this was his sword; under the mask he was all sharp edges and venomous barbs; poison ran in his veins but he’d cut those who got too close to ribbons before they ever spilt a drop.

Yusuke drew himself up a little. “That was _not_ what I was going to offer.” He said coolly, tucking a strand of his fringe behind his ear, as casual as anything. “I was simply going to say that…I understand why you feel like that.” He mirrored Akechi’s pose, drawing his arms around himself seemingly unconsciously, his expression softening into one of melancholy. “Madarame…he left…marks on me, too. Not physical, per say, but…undeniably, they are there. And no matter how I might try to wash it out, his influence remains, like a black stain on my soul.” He sighed.

“So why don’t you _get_ what I’m saying?” Akechi says – he can’t help how bluntly that comes across, his voice ragged and harsh. “Those parts of yourself…don’t you find them disgusting?”

Darkness flashes across Yusuke’s expression, just for a brief moment, as he considers this. “What Madarame…and what Shido did…was detestable. Unmistakably. Rest assured that I would never intend to portray their actions as anything other than utterly reprehensible.” He speaks with such venom, such resolve – it’s a startingly far cry from his usual dreamy and distracted tone. His anger is nothing like Akechi’s – it’s cold and controlled but no less convicted and Akechi can’t help but be fascinated by it.

“But…those black marks are part of the canvas of my life. And I can’t erase them, nor paint over them, so one must incorporate them into the picture somehow.” He plays with his fingers and fidgets as he says this, as if holding back some wildly theatrical gestures that might help to illustrate his point but would probably put Akechi on edge even more. “To turn my suffering into something beautiful…to live the life I was denied for so long…is that not poetic? Could one even call that…vengeance…or perhaps justice?” He looked at Akechi warmly, the icy shadow of his anger completely gone from his face. “And you…you suffered so much because of Shido and all the things he did. He chipped and chipped away at your very self…and yet you are still here, still living and still fighting, in spite of him. I don’t see those scars as Shido’s marks on you or a weakness on your part, I see them as physical reminders of all you have fought and survived despite everything. As I said…a story…where there was suffering, yes, but from that suffering sprang something…hopeful.”

His expression became sorrowful. “Would it have been better if we had not gone through that suffering? Was it unfair and wrong and cruel that we should have to go through that? Yes, I think so…but Maruki offered us both such a thing and we both rejected it. You most of all.” He said thoughtfully. “I think the fact that we are alive…that _you_ are alive…is beautiful, even if our journey here was less than ideal.” He sighs deeply. “Do you think yourself lesser than others just because you have suffered? The ones who did this to you…to us all…” His fist clenches, seemingly involuntarily. “They are the true monsters, do you not think?”

When he finishes speaking, Yusuke’s eyes flit to one particular part of Akechi’s body for just a moment – Akechi doesn’t even need to look to know what has caught Yusuke’s attention. The freshest, ugliest scar he has, the only one not from Shido nor Shadow – _self-inflicted_ , he supposes bitterly – a red and raw grin across his chest, a bloodied blight just beneath his heart where a bullet entered and ended his life, or at least very nearly. It was even uglier on the other side, Akechi thought – a crude knot of crusted skin where the bullet had punctured through his body. Every so often it would suddenly flare up out of nowhere – and every time he would think, stupidly, or maybe as some sick joke to himself, as a burning pain gnawed against his back, that it was his body’s way of rebelling against him, as if it was furious that he’d picked himself up after something that should have left him rotting in a grave.

_You didn’t die when you should have, so now I’m going to make your life a living hell – just every so often though, so sometimes you’ll forget about me and think you’re safe and happy, but I’ll bite back and make you suffer for thinking you’re anything more than a waste of fucking space._

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but didn’t, because if any body would be that needlessly cruel it _would_ be the battered and broken one attached to the twisted little mind of Goro Akechi. Shido, adults, the world…all just excuses. There was no one to blame for what he’d gone through but himself.

When he was younger – starry-eyed and innocent and blissfully unaware of the horrors of the world – he had wanted to be a hero. Now, older, wearier and considerably more jaded – he had long made peace with the fact that he was a monster.

He sneers. “Nothing about me could be called beautiful.” He insists.

Yusuke looks a little sad for a moment, then thoughtful, before finally giving a wan smile. “I hope I can help change your mind about that, even if only a little.” He produces a sketchbook and pencil, and holds them up in front of Akechi, questioningly. “May I…?”

Akechi swallows back his default answer of; “ _Fuck off._ ” and forces his hands to his sides, fidgeting. He’s promised Ren he would do this, and to stop now would be an admission of weakness, of failure. The thought of Ren winning over him, smug smile on his face – or worse, the thought of Ren looking at him _apologetically_ – was enough to make his stomach turn. Goro Akechi had defeated death – even if that victory was only temporary, he was hardly about to cave in to some fucking drawing.

He forces out; “Go ahead, do what you want.” and looks anywhere other than at Yusuke, who nods and sits down across from Akechi, pencil scribbling away.

A silence settles between them as Yusuke works, only interrupted by the occasional mumble from the artist (“Hmm.”/ “No…” / “Aha!” / “Yes…”), which Akechi starts tuning out after a while since they’re probably not meant for him. He concentrates on staying as still as possible but allows his eyes to wander around the room as a distraction. Yusuke’s dorm is surprisingly tidy – or perhaps just barren, Akechi considers – but still very ‘Yusuke’.

 _There’s no denying he has talent_ , Akechi thinks as he browses the artwork around the room – but a young person with great talent is such an easy target for some rotten adult, or group of rotten adults. Akechi had talent too – he had something unique that no one else in the world had – but his talent got him nowhere except the wrong side of a bulkhead door.

A voice startles him. “You may put your shirt back on now, Akechi.”

He looks at Yusuke incredulously, who no longer seems focused on his drawing and is instead rooting through a satchel at his side. “Are you done yet?” He says impatiently, quickly pulling his shirt back on.

“Not quite. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression ‘one cannot rush art’?” Yusuke says sagely, and Akechi huffs and looks away again.

 _Clearly the person who came up with that expression wanted an excuse to waste people’s time._ He doesn’t say, and instead begins mulling over what Yusuke said earlier.

It’s true that they are similar in many ways. They both lost their mothers and then, one way or another, became dedicated – he winces internally at how fitting and yet how _wrong_ that word is when applied to him – to the ones who caused their deaths. Akechi had tried so hard to reason that he had only served Shido so diligently for so long was because of his plan – or his childish, moronic belief; it seemed so stupid now looking back, but oh how desperately he’d clung to the idea – that one day he could tear down Shido’s empire, the one he’d helped him build up; he could rip away everything that vile man held dear – he would utterly _ruin_ him, like Shido had ruined Akechi.

And of course, that was partly true – but the feeling of being _needed_ , of being _relied on_ , and being _praised_ …even from Shido, it had felt like a soothing balm on his ragged soul – but he supposed, really, it had been an addiction to even the most meagre form of affection, and that addiction had dragged him back time and time again, embroiling him deeper and deeper into that sickening relationship where his hatred of Shido and _himself_ only grew the further he went. The most basic form of manipulation and Akechi had fallen right into Shido’s trap, being played from the very beginning. How desperate for _anything_ from _anyone_ was he? It made him sick to think of himself like the wretched cognition Shido obviously saw him as.

But then again, at least Shido had thought of him as a _person_ , even if just a person to be used, abused and cast aside. Yusuke was apparently nothing more than the latest painting amongst hundreds of others in the vanity-stained museum of Madarame’s Palace.

His gunshot wound flared up again and he itched furiously at his back, after checking that Yusuke was too engrossed in his painting to notice if his model changed his pose briefly. Despite the pain that shot through his body like he was back in the engine room all over again, he allowed himself a smile. Regardless of Akechi’s pathetic past actions, Shido was behind bars and hopefully suffering – if not now, then when Maruki’s heart was stolen – it wasn’t the victory over his father Akechi had hoped for, but it _was_ a victory at least. Justice – or a close approximation – had been served. And despite his purpose in life being fulfilled without him, Akechi hadn’t expected to be able to live to see the aftermath of Shido’s downfall, so that was a bonus at least.

* * *

Yusuke let out an exclamation that seemed to have a sense of finality about it, followed by a gleeful chuckle as he signed his name at the bottom of his piece and brushed the last few errant eraser shavings away with his hand. Akechi blinked dazedly, realising that he’d lost track of time – the warm honeyed glow of dusk was beginning to seep into the room, and Yusuke was considerably more paint-splattered than he had been the last time Akechi had looked.

Yusuke beamed brightly at Akechi, his palpable excitement bordering on endearing as he quickly strode over to Akechi and handed him the sketchbook. “Please, let me know what you think, Akechi. Obviously, I hope you like it, but please be honest about what you think. I will not be offended, no matter how harsh the criticisms.”

Akechi took the sketchbook warily and looked down at the drawing.

A stranger looked back up at him.

The drawing was artistically competent – the initial pencil sketch was perhaps a little less refined than some of Yusuke’s others – but it was definitely recognisable as a person, sat in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, one arm lightly folded across their bare, heavily scarred chest, while the other was bent, with their elbow resting on their knee and their face just slightly concealed by their hand. Their eyes gazed vacantly into the distance, auburn hair brushed slightly aside so as not to cover their face. The soft watercolours used to colour the piece lent it a warm, homely feel – light dabs of reds, oranges and yellows; gentle tinges of pinks and peaches highlighted by areas of bare white paper.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a technically impressive drawing of someone seated in a chair in the orange light of dusk.

But that someone was _not_ Akechi.

It was too gentle, too soft – Akechi imagined himself drawn with black ink, all hard edges and angles, dark shadows cast over him – the only thing he had in common with the stranger was the scars.

Well, that made sense, he supposed. _Just pity after all_.

All Yusuke saw when he looked at Akechi was what Yusuke could have been had the Phantom Thieves not got there before there was nothing left of him.

“It’s great.” He lied, through gritted teeth. “Good job.” He practically thrust the book back into Yusuke’s hands. “Are we done now?” He said, not even waiting for an answer as he stood up and made to leave.

“Akechi, wait!” Yusuke cried, stepping into Akechi’s path with a single stride. Akechi refused to meet his eyes. “I…I told you I would prefer you to be honest with me. If my drawing was not…to your liking...” He began, then paused. “…or…or if I have…offended you somehow, I…my apologies…”

“It’s fine.” Akechi said grimly. “Don’t worry.”

Yusuke’s slightly flustered expression hardened into a frown. “Don’t lie to me, please.” He said, with an almost threatening edge to his voice that made Akechi snap to attention. “I know you are used to lying and concealing your true feelings, but I would prefer you to be honest.”

Akechi glowered. These wretched Phantom Thieves…always so willing to extend a hand to him. First Ren, then Morgana, now Yusuke. Did they never learn?

_Did he?_

He took a deep breath, letting his eyes slide shut as he organised his thoughts for a moment. When he opened them, Yusuke was still there, looking at him expectantly, but also encouragingly. Akechi decided to take that as a good sign.

“The drawing is…good.” He began. “But you didn’t draw…me.”

Yusuke looked confused. “I…what?” He looked at his drawing again, as if it would magically rearrange itself before his eyes. He looked at Akechi seriously. “I…drew exactly what I saw.”

“Then you require glasses.” Akechi said coolly. “It looks like me. But it is not. I don’t know what the artistic term for that is, but you may as well have drawn a mannequin of me. There’s none of my…essence…or whatever you were trying to capture of my…heart. That.” He really was trying his best to explain it, but Yusuke’s more abstract and conceptual ways of thinking and expressing himself were foreign to Akechi’s sharp, analytical mind.

It seemed like the message got through though, as Yusuke wilted slightly at Akechi’s words. “I see…hmm, that is a shame…”

Yusuke trailed off into silence, a slight wrinkle to his brow.

“Uh…” Akechi began tentatively. “I…am aware that your…inspiration was the art piece _Sayuri_ …correct?”

Yusuke seemed to blossom at the mention of the painting. “Yes! The _Sayuri_ …a painting that conveys a true sense of love, tenderness, and hope…it’s true, it was the painting that inspired me to begin my own journey as an artist…even more so knowing that my mother painted it, pouring the contents of her heart into its creation.” A giddy smile tugged at his lips. “True, true, that is the sort of thing I strive to create and portray on my canvas…” Recognition seemed to flow back into him, and he glanced at his drawing again. “But it seems I still have much to learn…ah, well, I shall not let this deter me…”

“If I may.” Akechi said, cutting in before Yusuke could begin mumbling to himself again. The artist’s eyes snapped to Akechi attentively. “While I find your…sentiment…nice, it seems to me like you have rather limited yourself artistically. You have specific feelings that you associate with the _Sayuri_ , yes? But surely it’s impossible to portray everything you may draw in that same light. Some things…some people…cannot be depicted in the same manner as the _Sayuri_. There are people without love, and there are those that are…without hope.” He squirmed. “So many people’s hearts are…broken, or rotted, or entirely empty…how can they be depicted as having as much love in their souls as the _Sayuri_? That would be…well, not lying exactly, but that can’t be considered painting something true to life. Uh…in those instances anyway.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Even when attempting to be somewhat nice he still managed to be insulting.

Yusuke – amazingly – nodded and seemed to consider Akechi’s words for a while, rubbing his chin in deep contemplation. His eyes slowly travelled upwards to meet Akechi’s – and he _grinned_.

“Ah, I see.” He said, with an air of wisdom. Akechi blinked dumbly. Yusuke shook his head fondly. “I understand. But it seems you are somewhat mistaken – while it’s true the _Sayuri_ was my inspiration…I understand that the world is not so kind and so gentle and so loving as one might depict in a painting of mother and son. I looked upon it before and saw only beauty…but I know the world I live in is not like that. A corrupted version of that painting exists, where the son is shrouded…and there are times, because of that, when I look upon my mother’s true painting and feel that, rather than looking at the essence of beauty, I am looking upon the darkest most depraved thing humanity has to offer.” He looked pained for a moment. “Madarame…stole away that purity from me. I sometimes look upon the _Sayuri_ and see no beauty, only reminders of his greed and vanity and cruelty and…” He breathed deeply like Akechi had just before, bracing himself against the wall as if the effort of speaking was draining him. “…I cannot look upon, or even think about my own mother’s face without feeling…lost…or sad…or angry.” His eyes met Akechi’s for just a moment – and in that moment, Akechi understood everything Yusuke had been trying to say.

Then Yusuke smiled, his eyes slightly watery. “But that has only strengthened my resolve. And it has made me all the more appreciative of the pure love the _Sayuri_ portrays. It is love I will never know again but…” He wiped his eyes, still smiling. “The world has white light, and black shadow – we exist in the grey space between them. That duality…that beauty born from ugliness, hope from suffering… _that_ is what I hope to capture.” He handed the drawing back to Akechi. “Look again. But look beyond what you expect to see. Look at what is really there.”

Akechi silently took the book from Yusuke and looked down.

His bright crimson eyes, burning with a steely conviction, stared back at him.

He could barely even see the scars.

“You say you don’t have hope.” Yusuke said gently. “I disagree. You are perhaps the most hopeful person I’ve ever met. Your determination burns within you like a fire – before, it consumed you and everyone around you, but now…though it’s still a part of you, and always will be, it’s…” He tilted his head. “…well. That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?” He sighed again, and looked at the drawn Akechi, then at the real thing. “Even if our future was not what we would have wanted, expected, or even what we deserve…the point is…it’s _ours_. Ours to live, ours to choose…”

_Ours to die for._

Akechi flinched. “I…” He said, his voice strained. Choice – no, the idea of _freedom_ – was not something he was familiar with and the prospects spiralled and stretched out before him in that moment – dizzying, nauseating, exhilarating and addicting all at once.

He let out a shaky laugh. “I suppose…I can see how _that_ might be considered beautiful.” He sighed. “I…can’t claim to have much artistic knowledge or even understand why you…” He shook his head disbelievingly. “Well…thank you, Kitagawa-kun.”

“Yusuke.” Yusuke corrected him quickly.

Akechi blinked. “Yusuke. Thank…thank you. This has been…an interesting experience.”

Yusuke bowed his head. “Yes…Ren described his time here in much the same way.” Akechi grimaced. “But regardless, you are quite welcome. Please come back any time, you have made for a most wonderful model. And I…I look forward to sharing in this future with you, Akechi.”

Akechi remained silent.

Beyond his freedom, the future seemed so far away, and it seemed impossible that he would play any further part in the lives of any of the Phantom Thieves.

 _That_ was what he had chosen.

That was what he would _always_ choose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akechi and yusuke have so much in common and are a really interesting duo, so i hope you like their interactions here!! i'll be honest, there is a lot more i can do with these two, might have to add some more chapters later...they're also two of my favourite p5 characters jasbhjfdvg


	4. ryuji i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi spends some time with Ryuji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> akechi has a nightmare at the beginning and experiences a panic attack. swears throughout the chapter (ryuji and akechi are both potty mouthed) also some unhealthy(?) coping mechanisms at the end and some descriptions of violence/injury. there is also a mention of suicide partway through.

_**" **Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot, that it do singe yourself**."** _

* * *

Warmth enveloped him, trickling over his skin like water as gentle hands caressed his cheek, soft fingertips grazing against him like he was a delicate, precious thing – something to be treasured.

There was a blinding light all around him, the whiteness obscuring the room he was in – he groaned and turned away from the searing brightness, burrowing into the warmth, seeking safety. Soft, soothing murmurs met him, gentle touches against his back and arms – an arm snaked round his stomach to hold him close, then he felt a hand stroking his hair. He sighed, feeling the tension bleeding out of his body as a tranquil haze settled over him. This felt…nice, if unfamiliar – it felt like something he’d experienced once, long ago, but couldn’t remember properly, as if through a thick fog. He sunk deeper into the relaxing state of serenity he found himself in, trying to commit all the details to memory for fear that this would be snatched away from him – but his brain seemed blissfully content to empty itself of thoughts entirely, the worries and stress that had embedded themselves inside him floating away like wisps of smoke, leaving him feeling light and warm inside.

Then humming – a woman’s voice, tone and tune familiar.

He froze.

“Goro.” The woman said, like the word tasted sweet on her tongue. “My Goro, my little prince. I’m so proud of you.”

He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything except tremble weakly, the haze clouding his mind, exhaustion seeping into his bones and the humming burrowing into his very soul. Familiarity struck him now like lightning.

_Mom?_

More warmth, more touches. Fingers in his hair, arms coiling round his midsection, hands stroking his face.

_No, no, no…no, no…this is wrong…_

Panic gripped his heart and clutched tightly, chokingly – the heady scents of home and the warmth tingling on his skin only intensified as if to combat his anxiety – but still he began to violently shake, and tried to turn himself around, writhing to get away, but the whiteness was pressing against him from all sides, the cloying heat tightening its grip on him and threatening to drag him under a torrid sea.

_Get out, get out! This is a trap! You’re going to die here!_

Still that humming persisted as the world warped and whirled around him, becoming increasingly more erratic and macabre until he felt like it was drumming on the inside of his skull, pounding in his ears – _no_ , pounding inside his chest like a heartbeat, so powerfully it splintered his ribcage. A sickly feeling began to overtake him as he flailed around wildly trying to escape. Hands grasped at him again – but they were no longer affectionate, gentle touches, they were reaching out to him to try to keep him in place, to _trap_ him; the claustrophobia overwhelming his senses as he swatted at the hands blindly, cold metal scratching his skin – God, he had to get away, he had to get out, he had to _be free_ …

“Goro?” He heard the woman say, her voice cutting through the tinny distorted humming. “Goro…you’re safe.”

_No._

He had never been safe. Not since she had left him behind.

Finally coming to his senses, he wrenched himself free of the warm grasp he was held in, the scene dissolving around him as he suddenly frenzied, ripping himself away – tearing, clawing, biting his way out, metallic tang in his mouth – and then all of a sudden he was alone, standing in darkness, feverishly shivering and panting heavily.

His knees nearly gave out, and his stomach seemed close behind as a wave of nausea hit him like a battering ram. He retched, gripping his arms so tightly he nearly drew blood – he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, desperately clutching at his quivering body as if that might help him wrench control of himself back – he just kept choking on the burning air, and it felt like the inside of his throat was being stripped away with every stuttered breath he took.

_I’m real, I’m real, I’m real, I’m…_

“Akechi-kun?” A familiar voice said. “Are you alright?”

He stiffened, his shaking hands clenching into fists, and forced himself to swallow the bile building in his throat. _Are you alright?_ in that oh so concerned and caring way that makes Akechi feel sick all over again.

“What…the _fuck_ …” he spat hoarsely, flicking his head back to glare at Maruki, seething. “…are _you doing here?_ ” As if Maruki has the right to ask if Akechi’s _alright_ when he’s the cause of all this fucking pain in the first place – and under the pretence of _healing_ no less.

Maruki looked him up and down coolly, not batting an eyelid at the snarl of a greeting. “Well, I thought this might be a good opportunity to have a chat. One on one.” He pushed his glasses up his nose contemplatively. “Well, I might not have any snacks…but hey, at least there won’t be any violence here.” He offered a smile. He was wearing a much more casual set of clothes than his Metaverse outfit – just a scruffy lab coat thrown over a pale blue suit, and his usual slicked-back hair was instead falling over his eyes in a messy heap.

Akechi narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I think you’re mistaken on both counts, actually. I have absolutely no desire to ‘chat’ with you.” He turned around to face Maruki, his expression thunderously dark. “But I don’t know…I feel as though I could tear your throat out right now.” He growled.

Maruki gave a sad sigh. “That’s a shame.” He fiddled with his thumbs. “You know, it’s strange, really. Here I am, literally inside your head…and yet I still can’t understand you, Akechi-kun.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re shit at your job.” Akechi spat his anger like acid – it burned his throat, purging the sickness from him, all the uncertainties from mere moments ago vanishing.

Maruki chuckled. “Haha, a little harsh! But I mean it…” He looked at Akechi seriously. “Why do you want your friends to suffer the same pain you did?”

Akechi froze up. “I…what?”

Maruki rubbed his chin. “Your friends – the rest of the Phantom Thieves, I mean. They–”

“They’re not my friends.” Akechi corrected, quickly.

Now Maruki was the one who narrowed his eyes. “Agree to disagree, Akechi-kun.” He said, waving his hand dismissively. “The Phantom Thieves…especially Amamiya-kun…they’ll be devastated at your loss. I thought, since…you had to go through the pain of losing someone close to you…” He looked at Akechi sadly, and Akechi’s blood boiled. “…I thought you would want to prevent the people you care about from going through something like that. You don’t seem like a cruel person – or rather, you don’t seem like you’re cruel just for the sake of it. So why…?” He frowned. “I think you’re hurting a lot inside…perhaps you think hurting others will mask your own pain? Or do you think you can take all the wounds yourself, for the sake of sparing the ones you love?”

He shook his head, and extended his arms wide, and Akechi cursed himself for how he flinched at Maruki’s gesture. “But you don’t have to be in pain anymore, Akechi-kun. You don’t have to go through life with that hole born from grief in your heart, and neither do your friends. All you have to do is accept this world.” He smiled gently. “I truly want the best for you, Akechi-kun. I wasn’t lying when I said that my reality could be exactly as you want it to be. Whatever… _who_ ever it is that would make you happy, I can…”

“ _Shut up_.” Akechi warned, his tone dangerously sharp. “Shut up. Just stop talking and _fuck off_. I’m _tired_ of listening to your bullshit. I am _this close_ to going to your Palace right now and spearing you on the top of your own fucking Tree of Knowledge or whatever the fuck. I don’t give a _shit_ if you want the best for me – you said yourself you don’t understand me, and guess what. _You never will._ Stop trying. Just…” He forced his hands to his sides. “…just _go away_. Just please leave me alone for five fucking seconds.” He could feel a guttural growl from Loki pulsating through his veins as he spoke, his anger surging through him and writhing in his heart, threatening to burst free from his ribcage.

Maruki wilted, looking forlorn. He looked like he was about to try and speak again, before a blaringly loud ringing sliced through the scene and tore Akechi out of his sleep.

* * *

He jolted awake and almost toppled out of bed, heart thrashing madly inside his ribcage. He felt a searing pain in his head, his skin felt like he was burning alive and yet he was drowning in sweat – his throat constricted and he choked and spluttered and clutched desperately at his bedsheets, balling his hands into fists as he–

_Stopped._

He closed his eyes tightly and focused on levelling out his breathing – he was fine, he was alive, and in his apartment, the pale light of the early dawn spilling through the gap in the curtains – but he was still shaking, and an unnatural warmth still lingered on his skin like dew.

_I’m real._

He took a deep breath and loosened his vice-like grip on the sheets.

_I’m still here._

In contrast to the place he had been in before, his apartment was pleasantly cool, and not too bright, and almost completely quiet save for the sounds of the street below burbling into life outside the window.

And that persistent ringing noise.

With a shudder, he reached down and fumbled for his phone, digging underneath a discarded pile of clothes.

“Fucking thing…where _is_ it…”

He eventually retrieved it and switched off the alarm, squinting at the screen in the muted light of his room.

_6:00 AM._

_5 more days._

He flopped back down on his bed, dangling his hands off the sides of the mattress, sighing deeply. His shaking slowly subsided as the strange haze that muddled his senses began to clear. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to push the dream from his mind. It was all nonsense anyway – Maruki couldn’t seriously think he could say anything to convince Akechi to stay in this wretched reality any longer, surely? Akechi would shoot down each and every one of his pathetic attempts to persuade Akechi to make a different decision without hesitation – and some part of Maruki must acknowledge that futility, surely? He certainly wasn’t about to win Akechi over by bringing _her_ into it…

He huffed, still feeling the anger from the dream throbbing dully in his veins. These were just the desperate actions of a madman who knew he was running out of time – he would have laughed out loud at the irony there, had a knock on his door not made him jump out of his skin.

He tensed up, and waited for a moment in silence. Old habits died hard – he’d trained his mind for too long to be prepared in case Shido or some disgruntled subordinate sent someone knocking. The logical part of his brain insisted that such a thing was unlikely to occur in Maruki’s reality, but the irrational act of reaching for a weapon came too easily to him – he only wished that _Proof of Justice_ looked more intimidating. Well, it was better than nothing – it could buy him a few seconds of vital distraction time to incapacitate or ditch the intruder at the very least. Feeling the cold panelling beneath his fingers and the solid weight of it in his hand was also somewhat reassuring, and he felt his nerves calming slightly as the knock came again, more forcefully now.

Slowly, he rose, keeping the gun in his hand, drumming his fingers along the cool metal of the handle. He quietly made his way through the main room of his apartment, picking a careful path across the bare wooden floor so as not to give his presence away.

“Hey, Akechi! You in there, man?”

Akechi stifled a groan as the muffled voice of Ryuji Sakamoto echoed outside of his front door.

Feeling a considerable amount of embarrassment, he set _Proof of Justice_ down on his dining table and unlocked the door, mumbling; “Just a moment…”

It was approximately a second after he had opened the door that he remembered that he was still wearing his pyjamas – more specifically an old, faded _Featherman_ shirt and a loose pair of dark sweatpants – and he dreaded to think what his face and hair looked like right now.

His messy appearance did not seem to escape Ryuji’s notice, as the blond boy seemed to do a double-take, mouth hanging open slightly.

Akechi bristled and – resisting the urge to slam the door shut – shot him a piercing glare. “Can I help you?”

“Uh…” Ryuji said, looking Akechi up and down, before seeming to notice he was on the receiving end of a death glare. “Oh! Right!” His expression brightened and he beamed widely. “We’re going for some training, right? I’m a little early, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, still with that cheeky smile on his face.

Akechi frowned, and took his turn to inspect Ryuji’s appearance more closely. The boy was wearing what looked like a Shujin vest and shorts, with a thin hooded jacket thrown over the top and a slightly grubby looking pair of trainers. He also had a rucksack slung over his shoulder. Now that Akechi thought about it, he did vaguely recall sending a text late last night wherein he agreed to accompany Sakamoto for an unspecified ‘training session’ in the early hours of the morning. He more clearly recalled…

“I thought we had agreed to meet at 7 o’clock.” He said, narrowing his eyes. “It’s just gone 6.”

“Oh right…sorry, man.” Ryuji shrugged. “Honestly…I had this impression of you where I thought you’d want me to be super early…for some…reason…heh…”

“You were mistaken.” Akechi said icily.

“Yeah…” Ryuji mumbled, his energy seeming to dissipate. “Er…I can…go…come back later…if you want?” He offered, looking unsure.

Akechi took a deep breath. “No. It’s fine. You’re here now, so I might as well get ready to go. Early bird catches the worm…and all that.” He sensed that Ryuji was about to make a crow joke, so Akechi cut that train of thought short as he took a step back into his apartment, gesturing behind him awkwardly. “Don’t just stand there…you can come in.”

Ryuji tentatively followed behind Akechi into his apartment, peering around curiously. Akechi led him into the main room, feeling weirdly insecure about the state of his apartment – not that it was messy, quite the opposite, in fact; it was spartan, almost completely barren of furniture save for the essentials; a single sofa, table, television and the like. The shelves were bare, the white walls lacking in any photographs or pictures – there was nothing to indicate that anyone even lived here aside from the slept-in bed and instant ramen in the cupboards. Akechi thought of Ren’s attic, with his shelves stuffed with silly trinkets and souvenirs – winnings from crane games, gifts from friends, physical reminders of good memories. Akechi had nothing like that – and it seemed too late to begin a collection now.

“Let me just get ready. Feel free to make yourself at home.” He said, vaguely gesturing to the sofa. He was just about to head into his bedroom when Ryuji suddenly perked up, like he’d just remembered something.

“Oh, right! I brought these…if you need them?” He shrugged off the rucksack and held it out for Akechi to take. “Spare Shujin jersey…I didn’t know if you had clothes for running.” He glanced around the bare apartment again, as if reaffirming his doubts.

Akechi had some old clothes he sometimes wore for cycling, but he supposed taking Ryuji up on his offer saved him the effort of digging them out of his wash basket. “Thanks.” He said, taking the rucksack. “I won’t be long.”

He headed for his bedroom and closed the door behind him, quickly pulling on the Shujin jersey, which fitted him reasonably well. He supposed he had worn one before, when he and the Phantom Thieves had met up at the academy to discuss the broken reality, so it was probably easy for Ryuji to get him one in the correct size. He then nipped into the bathroom in an attempt to wrestle his appearance into something a bit more presentable, brushing his hair and tying it up in a loose ponytail, then splashing some cold water on his face in a last ditch attempt to fully wake himself up. He doubted there was much point in trying to improve his appearance further – Ryuji had already seen his ugly freckles, the dark circles under his eyes and his general haggardness – so he simply packed his own rucksack with a towel and water bottle before re-joining Ryuji in the living room.

Ryuji, predictably, had honed in on the one thing in the room that didn’t have the same drab dusty colour scheme as all the furniture – he had picked up _Proof of Justice_ and was turning it over in his hands, inspecting the weapon.

“Don’t fiddle with that.” Akechi barked, and Ryuji jumped.

“Oh, uh…my bad!” He said chirpily, offering an apologetic grin. He then leapt up and bounded over to Akechi, conjuring up the image of a lumbering dog in Akechi’s mind, which made his lips curl up in a slight smirk. “Ready to go?” Ryuji asked, stretching his arms above his head. “Figured we could head for Inokashira Park first off, whaddya think?”

“Sounds good.” Akechi agreed, tossing Ryuji his rucksack.

The streets were mostly empty, so it was a brief but chilly walk first to the train station, and then over to the park once they’d reached their stop. Akechi had expected to be badgered with incessant comments from Sakamoto, but the other boy seemed deep in thought about something – normally, Akechi would have been content to remain in silence, but he found that in the quiet, absent of any distractions, his thoughts returned to his dream earlier – the feeling of soft scratches against his scalp as his mother threaded her fingers through his hair like she did when he was young, how close he had been to slipping under, succumbing to that numbing feeling of happiness entirely…

“So!” He suddenly blurted out, startling Ryuji out of his own train of thought. “Uh…have you been well…Sakamoto-kun?”

Ryuji stared at him blankly for a moment. “Oh um…yeah, sure, I guess. Y’know…as well as I can be?” He said.

Akechi hummed in acknowledgement. “That’s…good. Er…” He fumbled for a thread of conversation. “…have you been…enjoying the…weather?” He offered.

An awkward silence elapsed, and Ryuji suddenly burst out laughing.

“Dude, weren’t you on TV for like, years? I’d thought you’d be better at small talk than this.”

“It’s not my fault.” Akechi grumbled. “You’re not providing the correct answers.” He was making an effort not to put on a façade – Ren had said the Phantom Thieves wanted to get to know _him_ , not the Detective Prince – but he was finding that once his veneers had all been stripped away, there was very little left under the surface. Television interviews were live but they may as well have been pre-rehearsed – always the same questions in the same order, and he always gave the same answers in the same tone with the same smile. In Ren’s company, he could slip into something he might call his true self as easily as any mask; conversations came naturally to him – with others it wasn’t so easy, despite his best efforts.

Ryuji cocked his head. “Well, what am I supposed to say when you ask a dumb question like that?”

Akechi shrugged hopelessly. “Oh, I don’t know. I…I don’t really know what we should talk about. You’re…” He gestured vaguely. Loud? Obnoxious? Bull-headed? Immature? Those and many other less-than-charitable descriptions sprang to mind, but he bit his tongue and said none of them. “… _different_ from me. Too different. We have virtually nothing in common. In fact I’d wager that you don’t even like me that much. So what is there to talk about?”

Ryuji’s expression grew strangely serious. “Um…well. I mean.” He frowned. “I guess you’re kinda right about some of that. I…don’t know if I like you, honestly.” He scratched the back of his head, not meeting Akechi’s gaze. “I just…wanted to see what you’d be like. Like…not in the Metaverse. And not on TV.” He gave a strained chuckle. “So far, you’re not what I was expectin’.”

Akechi smiled slightly. “Similarly, you Phantom Thieves keep on surprising me.”

“Heh.” Ryuji said. They were reaching the gates to Inokashira Park now. “I…don’t really know what I was expecting from your apartment. Just…didn’t think it would look like that. All empty and shit.”

Akechi grimaced. “What exactly were you expecting? Gilded walls, marble flooring and a four-poster bed?”

“That or like, I don’t know…a dungeon or something.”

“…a _what_.”

“C’mon man.” Ryuji looked at him in disbelief. “With the…skin-tight suit and the…belts…?” He said. Akechi raised an eyebrow. Ryuji sighed in defeat. “Look, I dunno! I just thought it’d be less…boring?” He wrinkled his nose, which to Akechi indicated that he lacked a better word to describe what he thought of Akechi’s apartment.

“I don’t take offence to that, by the way.” Akechi clarified. “I never really spent much time there until recently, so there wasn’t really any need to…spruce it up, make it more interesting. I was too busy with school, work and…well, you know.” He pulled at the jersey’s collar awkwardly, wondering if it fitted him as well as he had thought. “Besides, most of my finances were supported by Shido, so I didn’t exactly go out of my way to draw attention to myself by making lavish purchases. And I didn’t really have any possessions to call my own before that anyway. So…yes, I suppose ‘boring’ is quite accurate.” He shrugged. “It does what it needs to. Suits me just fine.” Not like he would be living in it for much longer. He wondered how long it would remain empty after he was gone – would people even know it had once belonged to the famous second-generation Detective Prince? It felt a bit strange to think that he would leave nothing of himself behind in the place that was supposedly his home – but then again, it would make things easier then; easier for the world to forget about him. The memory of him would fade as quickly as the Detective Prince fad had come and gone, with any luck – not that he was counting on getting any at this point.

He cleared his throat, but said nothing more. Ryuji looked like he was about to say something, until he suddenly seemed to realise they were rapidly approaching the middle of the park.

“Oh hey, we’re here!” He said loudly – thankfully the park was similarly empty as the streets had been on the way here. “So hey, I figured we could do a few laps of this place, then head to the gym afterwards?”

“Sure.” Akechi said, watching Ryuji tentatively stretch his legs out. “Do you want me to…um…”

“Nah dude.” Ryuji said, waving his hand dismissively. “Ren said that going easy on people isn’t in your vocabulary. You’ll probably go crazy with me slowing you down. Just go at whatever pace you like, it’s fine.”

“If you say so.” Akechi replied. “Shall we meet back here then?”

Ryuji gave a thumbs-up, and Akechi began jogging down the path that cut through the centre of the park. He heard Ryuji start running just after him, but the sound of his footsteps and laboured breathing soon fell far behind Akechi, even at this pace.

Akechi wasn’t the greatest at running, but he supposed he was relatively fit – he managed to keep a fairly decent pace up for his first lap, and he found himself back at the starting point more quickly than he had expected given the length of the lap.

He took a quick break on one of the nearby benches, sipping at his water. After Sakamoto didn’t show any signs of reappearing, he decided to start his second lap at a slightly faster pace and see if he could find him along the way. In truth, he quite enjoyed running by himself – it required enough focus so as to preoccupy his thoughts, yet it wasn’t so taxing so as to be exhausting, though he’d probably be feeling some aches in his muscles later – but this whole ‘hanging out’ thing felt slightly cheapened if he spent most of his time ‘hanging out’ alone. Ren would probably appreciate his effort regardless, but to Akechi it felt like cheating – an effort worthy of a certificate of commendation for taking part, not the gold medal. And Goro Akechi was one of those people who went above and beyond to succeed in every challenge he put his mind towards, which happened to be nearly everything, even something as pathetically trivial as spending time with acquaintances.

As he ran back along the same path as before, he thought about what Ryuji had said earlier. He wasn’t exactly surprised that Ryuji didn’t like him – he knew he was a deeply unlikeable person, without even delving into all he’d done to the Phantom Thieves. So why, he wondered, did Ryuji – and all of the Phantom Thieves, for that matter – insist on spending time with him? Ryuji he could chalk up to either idiocy or sheer recklessness, Yusuke morbid curiosity, Makoto…a brain aneurysm perhaps? As incomprehensible as their actions were, not only did they still insist on doing them, but here he was doing the exact same thing. Of course, _he_ was spending time in their uninteresting company because he’d told Ren he would – that was his excuse, no matter how flimsy it was. What was theirs?

Before he could mull too long on his thoughts he saw Ryuji just up ahead, slumped on a bench beside the path. Even from this distance Akechi could see how he glistened with sweat, how his chest heaved unevenly, so he picked up his pace and soon was coming to a halt next to the bench. Silently, he offered Ryuji his water bottle, but the blond boy waved it away.

“It’s…I’m fine, just…” He gestured to his leg. “Just restin’.” He clarified, giving an unconvincing thumbs-up.

Akechi knew some details of Suguru Kamoshida’s history at Shujin, and he recalled Sakamoto’s name coming up a few times in the files he’d browsed during his investigation – so he could understand why Sakamoto needed to rest. They were some considerable distance from their starting point. Akechi shrugged and sat down beside Ryuji on the bench.

“What are you…you don’t gotta wait up for me…”

“I’m resting too.” Akechi said plainly.

Ryuji looked at him suspiciously. “Okay…whatever, man.” He said flippantly, beginning to lightly massage the muscles in his bad leg.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, as the city began to slowly awaken around them. Joggers breezed past, workers and parents ambled, hand in hand with children or pushing prams, all with easy smiles on their faces as another perfect day dawned for them.

Akechi dropped his gaze to stare at his gloved hands, wringing them for warmth. Before, as every day passed, his life branched out further and further away from those of the Phantom Thieves, his path deviating with every choice he made, until he could no longer escape the tangled web of his own life. And yet despite that, his life had become inexplicably and inseparably entwined with Ren’s. And these wretched Phantom Thieves kept on reaching out to him, extending a hand to bring him closer to them, with open arms and open hearts. He couldn’t understand that.

Was that fate, he wondered – or perhaps fate was the wrong word; had it all been the machinations of a false god, everything good and bad that had ever happened to him…was it all just what someone else had decided for him? He’d always found comfort in the idea that even if his choices were horrifically, terribly wrong, they had at least been his to make. And he’d thought that if only he could have met Ren a few years earlier, maybe he could have made some decisions differently – correctly. But maybe not. Maybe it was all always going to lead to this. Shido’s puppet, Yaldabaoth’s puppet, Maruki’s puppet…

Even now, he wondered if what he was doing was wholly himself. Of course, he felt anger coiled in his heart – anger that wanted to grasp this distorted reality in his hands and crush it until all that remained was twinkling diamond dust; he’d tear apart this reality like this reality wanted to tear him apart and put him back together in the way that Maruki wanted – _that_ was real. But he wondered if Maruki’s deposition by the Phantom Thieves would be in service to some other being’s carefully constructed plans, how many more cosmic schemes he was inadvertently and unknowingly entangled in.

Unanswered questions nagged at him, gnawing at his heart – he would like to believe that he’s here at all on his own merit, some stroke of luck that let him survive the bullet from his cognitive self and claw his way out of a sinking ship…implausible as it is, he’s survived a lot over the years, so it didn’t seem impossible. Besides, letting him live after his poetic sacrifice seems in some ways like the cruellest fate, and he has no trouble believing that the universe really would keep on dealing him the shittiest hand in life possible. And yet…the gap in his memory refused to just let those explanation sit unchallenged. How had he gone from being shot to standing in Shibuya square on Christmas Eve? Even as a fraudulent detective, the mystery behind it was downright _infuriating_. And even more worrying was the _why_ behind his resurrection, or even the _who_ …

He drew in a sharp breath. Five days and one last decision, and then it was unlikely to be his problem anymore. So why did he insist on thinking about it?

It would have been useful, Akechi thought bitterly, if Maruki had had any actual insight into the inner workings of Akechi’s mind, because right now Akechi sure as hell didn’t. Why was he even here now, with Sakamoto? Why was he doing any of this – all this ‘bonding’, when he was so painfully aware of how temporary it all was? The thought he’d had earlier – that he was doing this because Ren had issued it as a challenge was laughably flimsy. Was he just a glutton for punishment? That seemed likely – even knowing he would put a bullet in Ren’s skull he had still spent time with him when every cell in his body was _screaming_ at him to stop. But no, on he had gone, twisting the knife further and further into his heart – and when he’d shot Ren he’d had half a mind to put a bullet in his own head too, for throwing away the one thing that had been worth a damn in his wretched life out of some warped sense of justice. And now he does the exact same thing with the Phantom Thieves – growing, dare he says it, _attached_ – and for what reason? To atone for his sins? To gain the approval he hungered so desperately for from someone, _anyone_? To feel like he’s part of something before he disappears forever? No matter his reasoning, it’s just an excuse for pathetic self-satisfaction.

He lets out a groan which causes Ryuji to flash him a concerned look. As soon as Ren comes into the picture, Akechi theorises, he loses the ability to think rationally. _That’s obviously the ability born from_ his _heart…but the only person he’s used it on is me._ He thinks grimly. Or perhaps Akechi himself is just an idiot. Why else would he risk an addiction to something he knows he can never have?

A part of himself he hates more than most speaks up at that thought, in a nasally, whining tone; _You_ could _have it though. You could have everything you want, that you never had before. You could even have_ her _back…_

“You good, dude?” Ryuji’s voice cuts through his thoughts like a ragged knife. Akechi releases a breath he had been unaware he was holding, watching his breath turn into mists that dance in the bitterly frigid air.

“Huh? Oh, yes, thank you, I’m fine…” He scrambles desperately for a new thread of conversation to get Ryuji to stop looking at him like that. “Do you…need…um, can I…I don’t know…help at all? With…?” Akechi said uselessly, not meeting Ryuji’s eyes, but the tone of surprise in the boy’s reply was easily detectable.

“Oh…nah, it’s cool…thanks.” Ryuji swallowed. “Not sure why it’s so bad today…must be the cold…” He muttered to himself for a bit, frowning, before suddenly giving Akechi a light punch on his arm. “But hey man, you’re pretty good! You took off like a rocket back there…you might even be faster than Ren!”

Akechi could not help the smirk that crept onto his face, the feeling of pride swelling in his chest. “Well, I should certainly hope so.”

“You do a lot of running?”

Akechi shook his head. “Not really running, no. Cycling, and on occasion, bouldering…”

“ _Bouldering?_ ” Ryuji spluttered. “Dude…what?”

“What?” Akechi frowned. “It’s an excellent way to train both your body and mind. Plus it can be useful in the Metaverse, for scaling buildings and such. Not all of us have the, ah,” he gave a sugary sweet chuckle; “… _luxury_ of a pretty little toy to help us get to hard-to-reach places, after all.” He tittered at Ryuji, who blinked.

“…Oh, you mean Ren’s grappling hook? Dude, isn’t it the _coolest_?”

Akechi narrowed his eyes, the coy simpering smile slipping from his face in an instant, replaced by a heated glare. “Positively glacial.”

Ryuji continued wittering on without even noticing Akechi’s sour expression. “Well I mean, we’ll be hitting the gym later, but hey, I guess we could think about bouldering some other time.”

“You don’t need other people to do bouldering. That’s roped climbing.”

“Who cares? You can teach me.” Ryuji grinned.

“I…what?”

“Well, you’re out here running at a stupid early hour because I asked, right? So next time, we’ll do something you wanna do – it only seems fair!”

“Next time.” Akechi repeated dumbly. “Right…uh…I’ll…see what I can organise.”

“Sounds good!” Ryuji beamed at him.

“…Are you sure you want to go with…me?”

“Duh. Otherwise I’ll fall on my ass in like ten seconds. You’ve gotta show me the tricks of the bouldering trade!”

“…Right.” His mind was struggling quite a lot to wrap itself around this whole concept. “Thanks for…showing an interest.”

Ryuji peered at him curiously, then laughed. “Dude, you’re such a weirdo. It’s…”

“…not what you expected?”

“…well sure, that. But it’s also just…kinda nice, I guess.”

“Mm.”

A pause.

“So you said you did cycling too?” Ryuji offered.

“Oh, yes! I cycle fairly regularly…”

They spoke for a while longer, with Akechi explaining that in the absence of a Monabus, he’d taken to cycling through the depths of Mementos – Ryuji had found the image of the fearsome Black Mask frantically pedalling away from a pursuing Reaper positively hilarious, and Akechi could not help the small smile that crept onto his face watching Ryuji crack up – and that his Detective Prince image had been useful for reaching the lower levels, since doors often showed up to block the progress of those that weren’t present enough in the public consciousness (“Oh, I remember those! They were a pain in the ass…”) – the conversation then flitted between topics, from Featherman (“Dude, what even was that shirt you were wearing earlier…”) to some of the quirks of the Phantom Thieves (“You’re lucky Yusuke only made you take your shirt off…have I ever told you what happened when we first met him? Ann almost had to…”) until they realised that they had been chatting for nearly an hour, and the park was beginning to grow more crowded, full of the same eerily smiling people as the streets.

“Oh crap…” Ryuji hung his head. “Sorry man, I totally lost track of time…you wanna head to the gym now? We might have to warm up again…damnit, that’s my bad…”

“It’s fine. Let’s get going before it gets too crowded here.” Akechi said, stretching his arms above his head before getting to his feet.

Another quiet walk to the train station and then through the streets of Shibuya once they’d arrived – again, Akechi noticed that Ryuji seemed to be deep in thought about something. On a couple of occasions he turned to Akechi looking as though he was about to say something, but then had fallen silent. As they exited the main square, Akechi could stand it no longer.

“Whatever you’re going to say, please spit it out.”

Ryuji flinched. “Wh–? Jeez, don’t scare me like that!” He scolded, before kicking at the ground sheepishly. “Okay, fine. Shit. Look. I’m…I just wanted to say…” He murmured something incomprehensible, turning his face away from Akechi.

“What?”

“I…I wanted to apologise. To you.” Ryuji said quietly, still not making eye contact. “So like. Sorry.”

Akechi blinked in astonishment. “Apologise to… _me_?” He repeated, incredulous. “For what?”

“Just, ah…when we were talking about Mementos and stuff earlier, it made me think of that time when you thanked us for dealing with Shido and…I kinda just, blew you off? I mean, I wasn’t lying, I did do it for Ren rather than you but…it was still a shitty thing to say, when you were tryin’ to be all genuine and shit. It was probably hard for you to say that stuff so for me to just…I was just bein’ a dick. So…sorry.”

Akechi hunched his shoulders slightly. “It’s fine. It probably warranted that reaction anyway.” He didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d said it – why wouldn’t the Phantom Thieves cut him down in that moment of vulnerability? As if he wouldn’t do the same to them. As if he hadn’t before.

“Nah, I shouldn’t have done it, it’s my bad.” Ryuji looked like he was about to offer a handshake, but hesitated. Akechi couldn’t blame him for that either. “Argh, damn…you’re not making things easy, huh?” He gave a hollow laugh. “Not gonna lie, I feel like I wanted you to be more of an asshole back to me, then I wouldn’t feel bad about…ugh, I dunno.” He shrugged hopelessly.

“Don’t make an effort on my behalf. I’m certainly not going to.”

“…okay, so you’re still kind of an asshole, good to know.” Ryuji said, with a slight hint of fondness. “Man, you’re confusing as hell. On the one hand, I feel like a dick for…even thinking about liking you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to forgive the things you did, but I guess…I dunno. It’s complicated. You’re one of us, you know?”

Akechi bristled. “Not really. I was blackmailing you – or actually not even that, I was just using you all.”

“I guess…but we still kicked ass together. And I dunno, you coulda run away from all of this and lived happily, but you came and found Ren and pulled us all out of it. Even after all the shit the world put you through, you’re still out here fightin’ to help save it. That says somethin’, you know?”

“Well, like you said…we have our own reasons for doing things. Mine aren’t necessarily the noble ones you think.”

Ryuji eyed Akechi shrewdly. “Well, whatever your reasonin’…I think…it’s good to have you here, man. Just…wish it hadn’t taken so long.”

Akechi snorted. “Be careful what you wish for. Especially now.”

Ryuji chuckled without mirth. “Yeah…”

Akechi’s eyes flickered to the other boy, scrutinising. “There’s no point mulling over what could have been, or even what you think _should_ have been. We’ve all already made our choices, and the consequences are ours to live with.”

“Yeah…I know.” Ryuji said thoughtfully. “Look…I don’t know if I’ll ever fully _get_ you, man, but…when it comes to having a mom you want to do your best for, a shitty dad not worth a damn, and bein’ angry at shitheads like Kamoshida and Shido doin’ whatever the hell they want…I can see where you’re coming from. So. Like I said. Glad you’re here. I think.” He looked contemplative, before jostling Akechi’s arm lightly, renewed vigour animating his motions. “Anyway! The reason I started talkin’ about that Mementos thing was because…I wanted to make it up to you. So…”

“Oh God.” Akechi felt heat rise to his face instantly. “What? No, you don’t have to…stop, what…you don’t need to do anything…” He protested.

“Just go with it, dude!” Ryuji said, chortling gleefully, most likely at Akechi’s distress. “Anyway, I’ll tell ya once we get inside. You’re gonna love it!”

“Sakamoto-kun, your assumptions about me really leave something to be desired…”

* * *

It didn’t take long for them to find the seedy-looking little gym (Akechi bit back a comment about how this was the second place Ryuji knew about that didn’t have the most appealing image) – as Akechi expected judging by the outside, there weren’t any patrons inside, leaving the whole gym to just him and Sakamoto. He wondered briefly if that was another side effect of this reality – many people had wishes that involved being fitter, or more attractive, but thanks to Maruki, they no longer needed to put in the effort to pursue those goals, thus leaving places like this abandoned, a relic of an imperfect reality where people had to work to achieve things. Despite that, the front-desk worker greeted them with the usual warmth and cheer, and Sakamoto was soon leading Akechi over to one part of the gym in particular, passing rows of somewhat shabby-looking equipment.

“Ta-da!” Ryuji declared, gesturing towards some equipment that Akechi guessed was probably for boxing or martial arts – large and small bags suspended by chains, huge padded sections of wall, a wooden dummy – and Akechi squinted at all of it suspiciously.

“Yes…uh…it’s very…nice…” He managed, staring at Ryuji blankly. The other boy rolled his eyes and began digging around in his rucksack, before pulling out what was unmistakably a photograph of Masayoshi Shido.

Akechi paused, breath hitched. “Uh…”

“Dude, please put it together already.” Ryuji scowled – and with that, he pulled out some tape and stuck the photograph onto one of the large punching bags, before glaring at it, then Akechi, pointedly.

“You want me to…hit it?” Akechi asked, feeling a strange tingling beginning to build in his chest.

Ryuji grinned. “Well, y’know, I figured this was more your style than Maruki’s sitting-down-and-chatting bullshit, right? Oh, here…” He reached over to one of the nearby racks and pulled out a pair of padded gloves. “I think you’re supposed to use these?”

Akechi took them tentatively and slid them onto his hands, tensing his fists experimentally. This was moronic, of course, this whole thing was undeniably stupid – Shido was not only in prison, but he was no longer the man Akechi had resented for 18 years; he was just a husk, an empty shell wearing his face, but no longer with his blackened, rotted heart. And punching a photograph – a mere _representation_ of that man – wasn’t going to do anything to change everything that had happened – and yet something horribly petty in Akechi still yearned for the chance to exact even the tiniest, most meaningless revenge against him. As he locked eyes with those of the photograph, niggling worms crawled out of the woodwork of his mind and tugged at his heart insistently, and waves of heated violence and aggression resurfaced, lapping over him – no matter how he had tried to bury his rage against this man knowing it would never be satiated in the way he had envisioned and hoped and planned for, still it lingered in the recesses of his heart.

Shido had stared him down like this photo did before – a cold, condescending gaze like Akechi was nothing more than a child, a tool, a _puppet_ – and with every praise he’d given that Akechi had preened at and lapped up despite it making him feel sick, and with every thinly-veiled threat and tone of disappointment that had made Akechi want to strangle him; he’d bitten back everything, all the venom he’d wanted to spit out at Shido he’d swallowed and let sink into his skin, permeate his blood, malice and hatred festering inside him like a disease, sitting like a stone in his heart. How long he had endured it all – promising himself that he could bat away every glare and threat with a sweet smile and apology if it meant that revenge against this man would taste even more delicious on his tongue. _Soon._ He’d told himself over and over; just tough it out, just grit your teeth, just endure it for a little longer because _it’s soon, it’s so close now._

And now soon was never going to come. And again he thought – if only he’d known that, perhaps things would have been different – then again, if he’d known how many things were going to turn out, maybe he would have done lots of things differently. But Akechi wasn’t one to deal with what ifs.

He swung wildly at the photograph, his fist meeting the paper and bag beneath with a loud thump. Akechi drew back, then struck again, faintly hearing Ryuji give a spirited cheer from somewhere behind him. The photo crumpled under his gloved fist, and he pounded against it a few times, one hand after another, feeling adrenaline surging through him as he threw punch after punch at his father’s paper face.

_Not enough._

To Ryuji’s surprise, he tore the gloves off and struck madly at the bag, lashing out in a delirious rage, feeling the impact of each hit shoot through his exposed hands, gritting his teeth through the pain that racked through his arms from the exertion, the power of each punch cracking back through him like lightning. He imagined he was in the Metaverse facing Shido’s Shadow as he had always wanted to do; the tantalising power of his Personas prickling at his insides, threatening to burst free; the satisfying thought of his glasses cracking and then his nose crunching under Akechi’s fist; the sharp claws of his Black Mask outfit raking across Shido’s skin, leaving deep lacerations – the thought of his father’s blood staining his hands was almost overwhelming, a dizzying, freeing intoxication swelling within him as he let out a snarled yell to accompany each punch.

_You’re nothing!_

_You were never anything!_

_I’m better than you…_

_You…you DON’T **CONTROL ME**!_

He let out his final, half-strangled cry and tore the photo to shreds, the paper remains of Shido’s face fluttering pathetically to the ground as they slipped between his fingers. The anger and adrenaline that had fuelled his frenzy was subsiding now, leaving a satisfying exhaustion in its wake. He trembled, panting heavily, feeling slightly dazed – until Ryuji poked him lightly on the shoulder with his water bottle.

“You good?” He asked gently, chuckling slightly when Akechi tore the lid off the bottle and began downing it in great heaving gulps.

“Mmm.” Akechi hummed, still feeling a little numb all over, save for the warmth throbbing in his hands. He wiped his mouth, then his sweaty brow. “My apologies, Sakamoto-kun. I um…may have lost my cool for a moment there…”

“As if you had any cool to begin with, dude.” Ryuji teases, thumping him on the back and grinning. “Not gonna lie, that was a little scary…but still, that was freakin’ awesome! Remind me not to piss you off, jeez…”

“Oh, it might be a little late for that.” Akechi sniped, with a sly grin. “Like you said…this was a warm-up, wasn’t it?”

Ryuji scoffed. “Hey, I’ve kicked your scrawny ass before, you think you can take another beating?”

“Interesting use of ‘I’ve’ there, Sakamoto-kun. I seem to recall you had _some_ help…” Akechi said thoughtfully, chuckling slightly at Ryuji’s pouting reaction. “Anyway…thanks for this. It was…kind of fun, I’ll admit.” Even if his hands were now hurting like an absolute bitch.

Ryuji sighed. “I was gonna say you have an effed-up view of fun, but honestly…I had fun too. So I guess we’re both effed-up, huh?” He offered his hand in a handshake.

“We are both indeed quite fucked up.” Akechi agreed, taking Ryuji’s hand and giving it a firm shake, gritting his teeth through the pain, before beginning to mop his damp hair with his towel so Ryuji couldn’t see the creeping pink blush staining his cheeks.

Of course he knew he was fucked up beyond repair and rapidly hurtling towards a foregone conclusion, but it was nice to think that on rare occasion, he did get some things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooo this is a long one!! i didn't know these bois would have so much to say :O
> 
> next chapter is ann btw, which i am really looking forward to finishing!! hope you enjoyed this chapter in the mean time ^w^


	5. ann i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi spends some time with Ann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the wait!!
> 
> content warnings for this chapter: some discussions of death, murder and suicide, especially in the latter half of the chapter! also please note that i have changed the rating from teen to mature \o/

_**"When I see you through my eyes, I think we are different. When I see you through my heart, I know we are the same."** _

* * *

If there was anything to be said about Goro Akechi, it was that he was a man of many masks.

Ever since his mother had died, his true self had become gradually more and more obscured, distorted as if it was being viewed through fogged glass – like a distant memory or myth, the details of which changed with every attempt at recalling it. He shrouded himself in veils of empty yet charming niceties and pleasant, unthreatening affability – and upon that were layers upon layers of armour to distance himself from the coldness of the world. Looking back on it now, it must have gotten to a point where it was _too_ perfect to the point of plasticity, parody or obviously being false – but he’d observed that most people tended not to delve too deep into things, look beyond what was on the surface – especially when to do so would be inconvenient. Why strip away the sunny charm and sweet smiles that made him useful? There was only a broken husk of a child underneath it all anyway – what was the use in uncovering _that_?

Of course, there were exceptions – times when he deviated from his script, let his mask slip, laid bare the gaps of his armour. Every encounter with Ren had been in equal parts intoxicating and improvisational – a chance to sharpen the blade of his tongue he kept dully delightful at all other times while a thrilling, dizzying cocktail of confusion, guilt, vulnerability, and forbidden happiness he knew he couldn’t have churned violently in the pit of his stomach. And in the engine room, every swathe of composure and geniality had been torn away by a primal maelstrom of hatred and anger and violence that had been brewing for so long, acid burning through his veins like fire, stripping away the bindings on his bruised heart and exposing the rotted creature beneath to the world.

He hadn’t expected to survive that, but now here he was. Shattered and tarnished, he had been dragged through a fire, kept alive for all of the exquisitely excruciating pain and then left to drag himself out of the ashes, stumbling away from the wreckage of his old reality – the world was never quite finished with him, it seemed. And although it seemed pointless to try and hide his wounds, knit himself back together, salvage his reputation (his first, second, third and probably more impressions had already been quite badly made on people) with the Phantom Thieves, here he was anyway.

 _‘Pointless, and yet’ is the story of my whole fucking life._ He thought idly, as he busied himself with taming his appearance after the gym into something vaguely appealing. A quick shower and hair wash cleared the worst of the sweat, grime and aches from his body and after drying his hair he went about his usual make-up routine – concealing the constellation of freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks, touching up the worst of the bruises that splattered his hands from his punching session earlier – in preparation for his outing with Ann Takamaki.

Another crucial tool in his arsenal of defences was _information_. He scarcely went into any situation unprepared – not only was his Detective Prince persona a carefully constructed mask, tailored over many years to be perfectly appealing and marketable; but he’d become well-versed in responding to queries from interviewers, fans – just _people_ in general – in a way that was natural, even if his words and sentiments were hollow, like pre-generated phrases selected from a handful of equally vapid variants. And he did his research – even without the benefit of certain conspiracy members being able to dig out all sorts of information, when left to his own devices he was able to unearth quite a few things too – about his targets, about his colleagues, even about the Phantom Thieves. It was all very educational, telling him what mask he should wear for each endeavour – the black mask of a Metaverse assassin, the fanciful frills of the sweet simpering child or the princely veneer of a hero of justice?

But despite all his research from the days when he had infiltrated the Thieves, he found Ann Takamaki to be unexpectedly elusive. Not that there wasn’t an abundance of information on her, but that the information left him unsure of what to expect. She seemed an outlier in the Phantom Thieves when it came to their lifestyles – she was a successful model; she had both of her parents (something, Akechi realised worryingly, was not a common trait amongst the rest of them) and enjoyed a decent, if distant relationship with them; she excelled at English in particular but was fairly average when it came to other academic endeavours; she fought competently as Panther, unsurprising for one of the founding members of the Thieves – all of it added up to an incomplete picture, a person he wasn’t sure what to expect out of. Even in her interactions with him – scarce as they had been – he felt he couldn’t quite put a finger on her thoughts on him. She shared none of the scornful or bitter looks across the table at him as some of the other Thieves did at their meetings, she looked at him…just _kindly_ , more than anything. Even her text messages were just… _nice_. Friendly and welcoming, as one might very well speak to a friend.

Of course, Akechi knew better than anyone how easy it was to hide a more malicious or cunning intent behind a gentle smile and friendly disposition. A sweet voice saying honeyed words was often all it took to draw in people like flies.

The uncertainty was disconcerting, undeniably so. But if there was anything _else_ to say about Goro Akechi, it was that he didn’t back down from a challenge.

* * *

Being erased from the collective consciousness of the world at large and being stuck in a falsely perfect reality did have its perks – however few – Akechi mused, as he waited for Ann’s arrival, leaning against the wall at the entrance to Shibuya’s underground shopping mall. Normally, lingering in such a place would have drawn the unwanted attention of gaggles of fans, who would have squealed and fawned and fussed over him before he could stand it no longer and would smile through steadily gritting teeth and excuse himself as politely as possible before making his escape. It was fortunate for him that no one even glanced at him – or if they did, it was only to smile vacantly, eyes glazed over, as they passed him by, on their merry way – too engrossed in their perfect lives to notice the bitter, judgemental gaze of a disgraced celebrity. And it was fortunate for _them_ , because he was long past the point of being polite about anything.

“Hey, Akechi-kun!” A voice called out.

He tilted his gaze toward the sound, and saw Ann working her way through the bustling crowd, before she emerged from the sea of people and skipped over towards him, beaming brightly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, fidgeting with his gloves. “I wasn’t waiting too long.” That wasn’t entirely true but it was a lie he figured he might get away with.

“I’m still sorry though, I mean, I was the one who invited you out! Hmm, how can I make it up to you?” She cast him a conspiratorial look. “I know! I’ll buy us both lunch! How about…hmm, something sugary? I could really go for a sweet treat right about now…” Her gaze flicked from shop to shop. “Tell you what, how about we get a bite to eat, then have a look around the shops afterwards? We could hang out after that if you want…hmm, my place is kind of a disaster right now…oh jeez, what am I saying, I haven’t even checked if that’s okay with you yet!” She met his gaze earnestly.

“Erm…” He blinked a couple of times, surprised. “…sure, I’m not…doing anything else today…”

“Awesome! Let’s sort the details later – first, food!” She smiled, grabbing his wirst and pulling him along excitedly. As he stumbled along behind her, Akechi once again found himself grateful that the crowds barely batted an eyelid at them.

It didn’t take them long to sort out their lunch – Ann made a beeline for a pop-up dessert café and after the inevitable awkward exchange between the two of them while they waited in line (“So what are you thinking of getting, Akechi-kun? I really like the sound of the ‘Strawberry Love’…strawberries drizzled with syrup and chocolate sauce with vanilla ice-cream…ah, my mouth’s watering already! Do you think I should get it on waffles, crepes or panc– uh, I mean…I didn’t…um…so, crepes maybe? C-Crepes are good!”) they were seated quickly, tucking into their cartoonishly oversized desserts. Ann insisted on taking a picture before they began eating and it wasn’t long before Akechi’s phone was buzzing persistently with messages from the Phantom Thieves’ group chat. He suppressed a groan at the mere thought of what the messages might contain (Ren’s in particular – he doubted the other boy would miss the chance to tease Akechi for his hypocrisy, seeing as how it had been only a short while since Akechi had been thoroughly judgemental about Ren’s ability to devour a ridiculously large Big Bang Burger without breaking a sweat) and took a large bite of his food in a futile attempt to distract himself. He’d opted for the so-called ‘Strawberry Love’ in the end (after Ann had spotted something called ‘Death By Chocolate’ on the menu, she would settle for nothing else) and had pointedly ordered it on a crepe base, having been put off The P-Word for the rest of his life.

It was no culinary masterpiece but the overwhelming amount of sugar paired with the sweet sharpness of the berries was enough to almost physically jolt him, shattering all the weariness from his earlier workout like a sledgehammer to glass – and his growling stomach certainly had no objections to the portion size.

“How’s yours? Are you going to die by chocolate?” He asked, idly stirring his excess sauce.

“Mmm!” Ann said, having just taken a particularly large bite of her own crepe, apparently struggling to communicate and chew at the same time. After swallowing, she nodded eagerly. “It’s sooooo goooood! Honestly I think I might die of happiness rather than chocolate. How’s yours, Akechi-kun?”

“Sweet.” He offered. “Almost overwhelmingly so. But palatable.”

Ann nodded in contemplation. “I’m glad you like it! Ren said you had a sweet tooth. And you run a food blog, right?”

“Ran.” He corrected. “Not a lot of time for that anymore.”

“Hmm, maybe you can start it up again when things are back to normal!”

He shrugged. “I guess. A lot of the places I went to weren’t really the sorts of places I can go by myself. It was, you know, for meetings. Corporate dinners and the like.”

She wrinkled her nose. “So…don’t go to those places? There’s lots of little cafes and stuff in Tokyo.”

“I suppose so. I’m not sure that would be exciting blog material though. Anyone can go to those places – but the restaurants I used to go to were more…exclusive. People would probably be more interested in seeing a side of life they can’t experience themselves.”

“I mean, maybe, but you’re not trying to do the whole celebrity thing anymore, right? So it doesn’t matter what other people think about it, you should just do what you enjoy! Although…” A wicked smile crept onto her face. “If you just went to little cafes you enjoyed, you’d probably just spend all your time at Leblanc, right? I mean, you kind of do that anyway…” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

He narrowed his eyes, feeling the heat creep to his face. “I…do not know what you are suggesting.”

She giggled, with a knowing look in her eyes. “Anyways, if you do start anything up, let me know! I’ll follow you – so you’d have at least one person looking out for your recommendations!” She beamed at him warmly.

“I…suppose so. Well, I’ll consider it, Takamaki-san.” Doing things for himself, or because _he_ wanted to, was still a strange notion to him. He was far too used to doing things for other people, or doing things to meet the expectations of others – of course, some of his own traits had slipped into his Detective Prince personality just by the nature of having adopted it for so long, but it was mostly just a tapestry of whatever quirks were the most appealing or the most marketable, with an enchanting smile stretched over the ugly knots and tangles beneath.

And all the attention he’d garnered from that had been as hollow as his interest in most of the things he did to keep up the pretence – every doting fangirl, every impressed adult, even every vehement hater or Phantom Thieves loyalist – all gone now, all indifferent, all uncaring. How swift his descent had been from breaking news to old news, and even swifter still he would soon be forgotten entirely, the only remnant of him the occasional looped broadcast or faded magazine trodden underfoot – not that he entirely objected. The attention – _that_ kind of attention – had been unwanted from the beginning.

But still, he wasn’t used to being indulgent. Indulgency was a rare crack in his façade that Ren had made when they first met, then had steadily prised apart with each subsequent meeting.

He glanced down at his empty plate while Ann finished up her own enormous crepe. That crack was probably quite wide now.

“Thank you for lunch, Takamaki-san.”

She gave him a hearty thumbs-up in-between bites of chocolate.

* * *

Akechi became vaguely aware at some point that he had agreed to let Ann dress him up like some kind of doll, because most of their time spent ‘shopping’ involved walking into a store (Ann dragging Akechi along like a sullen child), her fawning over various items of clothing, holding them up to him experimentally before departing the store, rinse and repeat. Due to his status as what Ann called a ‘fashion disaster’ (“I mean, the argyle sweaters are…kind of charming, I guess, Akechi-kun, in their own…uh… _special_ way, and I know Naoto Shirogane wore something similar, but also, you’re 18, you need to dress less like a grandpa…”) his opinions on the clothing didn’t seem to hold much weight – but the two of them got into several heated discussions about cosmetics, and had a particularly long conversation about the merits of one brand of foundation compared to another. Akechi was shaken to his core upon finding out that Ann was sometimes made to apply fake freckles to her cheeks in some of her modelling shoots, and Ann was similarly flabbergasted to discover that Akechi went to great lengths to cover his own freckles up. They exchanged horror stories about the difficulties of being somewhat public figures and the whirl of activity before a photoshoot or interview, being bustled from person to person and poked and prodded and preened to perfection before they were thrust in front of the cameras.

As they worked their way through the mall, they steadily accrued a collection of colourful carrier bags stuffed with clothes and other items that Ann apparently ‘couldn’t resist’ (Akechi noted with some amount of pride that Ann had followed some of his suggestions about what make-up to purchase), at one point passing by the flower shop and sharing a conspiratorial glance with each other.

“You could honestly make a tour of all the places Ren’s worked. It’s kinda crazy.” Ann remarked.

“Such a multi-talented individual.” Akechi said through gritted teeth.

Ann smirked at him, before pointing at the sports shop at the end of the walkway. “Did he tell you that bought a book about pool from that shop?”

“…What?”

“You know how he can do all those fancy trick shots? He bought a book about it from there! I think he may have even bought a cue at some point…”

“Huh.” Akechi said, deep in thought. Ren buying an instructional book about pool partially explained how his skill level had increased so dramatically so quickly – but strangely, his first instinct wasn’t to tease Ren about needing help, it was…a bizarre sense of _fondness_ , that Ren had gone out and taken something Akechi had introduced him to so seriously.

That strange feeling of warmth only deepened the longer they spent browsing the shops, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. Admittedly it was…nice, to spend time as he imagined a normal person might do, flitting from shop to shop, idly browsing through things he could pretend he’d have time to save up for or some desire to buy, eagerly chatting to an acquaintance as if he had all the time in the world to be spending on such a frivolous – if pleasant – activity. No looming deadline. No distorted sickness at the heart of the world. No clock ticking down to the end of his days. Just two friends spending time together without a drop of bad blood between them.

On the other hand, Goro Akechi didn’t get to where he was today by letting his guard down _that_ easily. Ann was nice, and he wasn’t about to pretend he wasn’t grateful for her politeness – but that part was _oh so easy_ to play, he’d done it himself for years. Obviously there had to be some insincerity behind her kind words and easy smiles – she must just be _pretending_ to like him for some reason. Tolerating him, indulging him and lulling him into a false sense of security before she struck him with the harsh bitterness of her true feelings towards him. This was a dance he’d done before, of being drawn in like fish on a line with the promise of tenderness, warmth and praise – but the only thing awaiting him on the other end of the line was usually something cold and cruel – anger, disappointment, beratement, the slow sinking of hooks into his skin as he tried to twist and contort himself into something better, something _less disappointing_ with every rejection, every failure.

Of course he’d been deserving of each and every one of those punishments, those abandonments – that had been the only way to make the pain of each one bearable. And of course he’d be deserving were such a thing to happen now – he’d not committed as monstrous an act against Ann personally as he had to Futaba or Haru, but she surely couldn’t stand to be in his company any more than they would given all he’d done to them – used them, betrayed them, almost killed their leader, almost killed _them_ , why hadn’t Ann brought any of that up yet…?

A delighted squeal drew him out of his thoughts and he glanced over at Ann, who was staring off into the distance with a wide-eyed, dreamy expression. “What is it?” He asked, following her gaze to a shop on the other side of the walkway. He eyed it suspiciously for a moment, but it didn’t seem to be anything more than just another trendy clothes and accessories shop, like any of the others lining the walls.

“Oh, it’s _perfect_!” She chimed gleefully, quickly making her way across the walkway. “Oh – I’ll be right back, just wait there a second, please!” She called back to him before disappearing into another shop.

Akechi narrowed his eyes and hauled the load of bags over to a less-crowded spot, leaning against the wall as he resigned himself to waiting for Ann’s return. As promised, she reappeared fairly quickly, as well as suddenly, startling Akechi out of his thoughts once again, this time with a light tap on his shoulder. “People watching, Akechi-kun?” She asked, her mouth quirked up in a mischievous smile. “Judging peoples’ fashion sense?”

“Something like that.” He said, inspecting her more closely. She was carrying her own share of hefty bags – but he could clearly spy a new addition to her collection, clutched behind her back in a pitiful attempt to try and hide it from him. “Though I thought I wasn’t qualified to do such a thing, according to you.”

She winked. “Well, that’s true, but you might have picked up a few things while we were shopping.” He raised an eyebrow at her. She chuckled, and then produced the plastic bag she’d hidden behind her back and pushed it into his hands. “Anyway, here! Happy Birthday, Akechi-kun!”

He blinked, dumbfounded. “What? It’s…not my birthday…”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, duh, I know that. But we first met right after your birthday, so we didn’t get the chance to give you a present! So…” She nodded insistently at the bag clasped loosely in his hands.

“I don’t…think that’s how birthdays…work…?” He said, which earned him a disapproving look. “Erm, I mean…it’s very…kind of you, but er…you really didn’t have to get me anything…”

“No, I didn’t have to, but I did because I wanted to!” She said defiantly, before her tone softened. “Hey, if you really don’t want it, you don’t have to have it, I just um…you know, I thought they would suit you!”

“Uh…” Akechi said, feeling wildly out of his depth. He turned the bag over in his hands and opened it up with some apprehension. Inside was a red hoodie adorned with huge golden stars across the front, glimmering faintly in the harsh light of the mall. He pulled it out of the bag to get a closer look and as he did, something clattered to the floor noisily. Ann retrieved the items and held them up in front of him – they appeared to be a collection of black hairclips, each decorated with a little feathery puffball from which a small yellow triangular beak protruded and beady black eyes shone up at him.

“Looook, Akechi-kun, they’re little crows!” Ann said excitedly, hopping from one foot to another. “Aren’t they cute? I saw them and thought of you straightaway, I knew I had to get them!”

“R-Right…” He said, still feeling lost for words. He looked down at the hoodie – beneath his fingers, the red fabric was invitingly soft and it looked just the right size for him. “And this?”

“Oh, I just _knew_ you’d like that. It’s just the right combination of…awkwardly goofy yet charming! Uh…no offense!”

“None…taken?” He said, carefully wrapping the hoodie and clips back up in the bag. “I, um…I don’t really know what to say…thank you, Takamaki-san.” Unflattering comments about him aside, he couldn’t deny he quite liked the gifts – the hoodie was like something he would have worn as a kid if his mother had had the money, something loud and silly and attention-seeking and hopelessly nostalgic; there was something intrinsically comforting about it, as horribly sentimental and stupidly yearnful as that felt to admit. The clips were also cute, though not something he would ever wear in public for fear of mockery – more than that, though, the gifts were… _thoughtful_. Ann had actually thought about what he might like, had purchased things she’d thought he’d enjoy or that had reminded her of him…he wasn’t really sure what to make of that. He’d received gifts of a certain sort before – chocolates and little trinkets from his most rabid fans, the occasional stationery set, paperweight, notebook or things of that ilk from colleagues for his birthday or Christmas, sometimes Sae-san would treat him to sushi or a designer ink pen – but this was something wholly different. Was this…genuine? Her gaze was kind and seemed wholly earnest but that…couldn’t be right…he didn’t…understand…no, he didn’t… _deserve_ …

“Are you alright?” He heard Ann say, her voice barely more than a whisper but with the concern in her tone evident.

He realised he was clutching the bag tightly. “O-Oh, God, yes, sorry…sorry, I just got distracted for a second.” He shook his head firmly, as if that would dispel the strange feeling of uncertainty and trepidation lingering in his mind. “It’s…this is really nice of you, Takamaki-san, I just, um, I can’t…I don’t really…I’m not used to receiving gifts, I don’t really know what the…etiquette is…?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Well, you said thank you, I think that’s really all there is to it, y’know? I’m glad you like it.” She studied him for a moment. “Shall we head out now? It’s getting kinda crowded in here, huh?”

Akechi certainly felt a little claustrophobic, though he doubted it was anything to do with the crowd, which was no larger than it had been when they’d arrived. He nodded, then paused. “Wait, no!” He cried, quickly turning on his heel and making his way briskly in the opposite direction. “J-Just…one second!” He yelled out, diving into the sea of people before Ann could protest.

* * *

He emerged a few minutes later, spying Ann waiting by the mall’s entrance, scrolling through her phone. He composed himself and strode up to her with as much confidence as he could muster, and thrust a bag into her hands, which she nearly dropped out of surprise. “That’s for you.” He said stupidly, as she fixed him a quizzical look. “Because…you got me something. So it’s only fair.” He said, looking pointedly at the ground.

He heard the crinkle of the plastic bag being unwrapped, and he sneaked a glance upwards to see Ann pull the gift free – he’d thought it only fair that he put in as much consideration into her gift as she had for his, so he’d gone straight for the cosmetics section of a shop that had plenty of brands they both favoured. Once there, he’d spent a good while browsing the selection, before settling on nail polish as a good gift idea – he hadn’t seen Ann buy any of that today, but he figured that might be something she would enjoy. The shop had a huge spectrum of available colours – Ann liked pink, so that seemed a good choice, but then she’d bought a gift that tied into his Metaverse name, so maybe he should get a vivid crimson to match her thief suit? Or a teal or blue to match her eyes, or any number of shades to compliment her vast wardrobe of outfits…in the end he’d settled on buying a set of polishes in a huge range of colours, just to be safe. After all, with nearly every colour in the rainbow at her disposal, there was bound to be at least one she would find useful.

He watched her eyes skim over each of the colours, widening in astonishment before meeting his gaze. “Oh, Akechi-kun…thank you!” She suddenly threw her arms around him in a hug, and he let out a yelp-like sound out of sheer surprise – coupled with how he tensed up, it was enough to make her recoil worriedly. “Oh God, sorry!” She said, drawing back with an ashamed look on her face. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just…it’s so lovely, I wasn’t expecting…it’s really nice of you, Akechi-kun. Thank you so much.” She beamed brightly at him, and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“S’fine. Whatever.” He muttered.

She giggled. “I mean it! This is…really generous of you. Thank you.” He sunk his face into his scarf to hide his reddening face – thankfully, she seemed too enchanted by the set to pay him much attention. “Well, shall we get going?”

Akechi found himself nodding. “We can go back to my apartment, if you like.” Ann nodded back at him, and the two of them began ascending the stairs to the train platform. Their journey was quiet, but Akechi’s mind was racing so fast he couldn’t find it in him to try and make conversation. Was this…still a ruse? Was she playing him for a fool, offering kindness and gifts he felt obligated to accept to get him to let his guard down? He’d bought her a gift in response to level the playing field – she wouldn’t get him to _owe_ her anything, trying to get insurance or leverage on him was a trick as old as time that he wasn’t about to fall for. He glanced across at her as the train rumbled along – she looked up from her phone and gave him a rueful smile – he felt so strangely out of his depth. This should have been easy! He didn’t even know why he was getting so flustered about this – why would any of the Phantom Thieves be trying to manipulate him now? He didn’t have any desire to be their friend, they were just working together as a means to an end, so why would his expectations be building at the time he spends with each of them?

He gripped the armrests of his seat very tightly, biting his lip. When did he get so _soft_? It’s his own fault, really – he dances too close to the fires of temptation and then complains when he gets burnt. Or perhaps this reality is getting to him more than he’d like to admit – this has to be Maruki’s influence, trying to get him to be all pally-pally with the Phantom Thieves. That was the only explanation for why he was being such an idiot right now. And that would explain why the Phantom Thieves were spending time with him – some subliminal message, some seed that Maruki planted at the back of their mind so that they’ll rethink the choice to oppose him. Well, Akechi is better than that. And so are the Thieves.

His grip slackened, though an uneasy feeling still persisted, sitting uncomfortably in his stomach like a stone. Ann didn’t really want to be friends with him, or spend time together, she had to just be putting on a show for Maruki to make him think they’re playing nice – Akechi is no stranger to this concept. They’ll finish this charade and go their separate ways, and there will be no unnecessary attachments, no questioning of his resolve, no more what ifs and could-have-beens and wish-they-weres.

He swallowed thickly, and tried very hard to convince himself he was convinced. Something he had discovered, however, was that it was much easier to lie to other people than to lie to himself.

* * *

Ann had much the same reaction to his apartment as Ryuji – confused glances and the slight furrowing of her brow, though she conducted herself with a good deal more care than Ryuji had, as if the place were made of some delicate material and too rapid a movement on her part would shatter the walls around them. She moved like a stranger – or a ghost – in an abandoned house, setting her bags down gently beside the door and sitting gingerly on the sofa in the living room, looking smaller than usual and wholly uncertain.

“It’s…emptier than I expected.” She explained, when she saw Akechi looking at her uneasily, offering him a somewhat reassuring smile.

“Mmhmm.” He offered in return, rubbing the back of his neck. “Erm, I can make you…tea? Or something?”

Her gaze softened. “I’m fine, thank you.” They were caught in an awkward silence for a moment, before Ann stood and padded over to her stack of bags, rooting around in them before drawing out the nail kit Akechi had given her. “Hey, why don’t we try these out together?”

“Oh, uh…I mean, if you want? I got it for you, though…”

She hummed. “Well, sure, but since it’s my gift, I can do what I like with it, right? And I think it’d be fun! Have you ever had your nails painted before, Akechi-kun?”

Their eyes both drifted down to his gloves, and Ann stifled a laugh as he shook his head. “Not really. I mean, it would be a bit pointless, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be able to see them…”

“That’s okay! Even if no one sees it, you and I will know it’s there, right?”

“I…guess so?” He wrung his hands thoughtfully.

Ann seemed to sense his discomfort. “Hey, only if you want! Or you could have a go at painting _my_ nails, if you prefer!”

“Is that really a good idea, Takamaki-san? I don’t have any experience with nail painting.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick it up, Akechi-kun, you’re smart!”

He sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Well, I suppose you’d better teach me how to do it then.” He said, slowly pulling his gloves off.

Ann grinned in delight and retrieved a few more things from her bags – some sprays, wipes and other assorted items – before heading over to the sofa, setting the kit down on the table and clicking it open, her eyes alight with excitement as she pulled the bottles – as well as some kind of wooden stick and some smaller bottles of clear liquid – free of their plastic bindings one by one. Akechi tucked his gloves into his trouser pocket before hanging his coat and scarf. He spotted his own gift tucked into the mountain of bags and fished it out, resigning himself to yet more foolish actions. He pulled the hoodie over his head – it fitted him perfectly and was amazingly warm and soft on the inside – and attempted to place the clips somewhat stylishly in his hair. The eyes on the fluffy little crows only looked down at him judgementally as he fumbled about in front of the mirror, before drifting over to join Ann on the sofa. She looked up at him and gasped.

“Ooh, Akechi-kun! They really suit you!”

“Really now.” He huffed, already feeling himself turn as red as his hoodie.

“Really! Oh come on, we have to take a picture!”

As soon as she made a move to reach for her phone he went into a panic. “No!” He screeched, making Ann instantly recoil. “Uh…I mean, um…sorry. I don’t, er…think they’d appreciate it.”

Ann narrowed her eyes. “Are you embarrassed, Akechi-kun?”

“Obviously not.” He snorted.

She smirked slightly. “Uh huh. Well, okay, let’s take one once we’ve done our nails instead. Then we can both be embarrassed.”

“I’m _not_ embarrassed. I don’t care what the others think of me.” He insisted, his cheeks glowing red hot. Ann only continued to smirk at him knowingly, and he made a disgruntled noise of exasperation. “Just get on with it before I change my mind.”

“Okay, okay.” She said, shaking her head fondly. “Here, give me your hand.”

He pouted, before extending his arm. She took hold of his hand gently, but a shudder still reverberated throughout his body at the touch. She stilled, and looked at him questioningly.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He muttered. “Just not used to it.”

She nodded, and began massaging some kind of oil into the base of his nails before taking the wooden stick he’d seen before and lightly pressing against the skin that met his nails. “Just pushing back your cuticles.” She explained, probably detecting him watching her prod his fingers with a look of bemused confusion. “I did mean to ask you…why is it that you wear gloves anyway?”

“It’s cold.” He muttered.

She pursed her lips. “Not all the time.”

“Sometimes you don’t want to get your fingerprints on everything.” He said bluntly.

“Oh.” She frowned slightly. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“It’s somewhat necessary in my line of work.” It made sense not to contaminate a crime scene with any lingering reminders of his presence – as a solver of crimes as well as the perpetrator of them.

“I guess so.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Though I dunno, isn’t that kind of sad?”

“How so?”

“Well, if you wear them all the time, it’s like you’re not leaving any trace of yourself anywhere. Like a ghost or something.”

“That suits me fine.”

She frowned again, but didn’t say anything more, instead carefully dabbing away the oils on his fingers before wiping them with a damp cloth that had the pungent smell of alcohol.

“This is to get rid of any natural oils, or other bits that will mess up the coating.” She said, before pausing. “Let me know if you want me to stop, if it’s overwhelming or–”

“I said I’m fine.” He growled, and Ann sighed. The touches on his hands did feel wholly alien and made him shiver occasionally, but he was sure that those slight blips on his composure were subtle enough so as not to be noticeable. It was strange, he’d not really thought about how used to his gloves he’d become over time – wearing them at first had just been a part of the job, but over time they had become part of his armour, fused to his hands like a second skin – and to sit here like this felt like exposing some vulnerability he didn’t even know he had.

They’d probably been helpful at first – to distance himself from the crimes he committed, a thin layer of leather shielding him from the cold metal of the gun in his hand, the hot splatter of blood against his skin – but now it felt as though he’d tried so hard to wrap himself in layer upon layer of insulation that he would cease to be a part of the world he was tearing through. If he could not touch the world, then the world could not touch him – because like two impossible things irrepressibly and paradoxically pressed together, every time they met things unravelled; the world singed holes in his heart and he tore the world into bloodied, weeping ribbons.

“Akechi-kun?” Ann said worriedly.

“Oh…yes, sorry, what? Were you saying something?”

“No, I just wanted to ask you…um…okay, it’s kind of a weird question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay, well…” She brushed a strand of her blonde hair aside, twirling it around her finger thoughtfully. “…is Goro Akechi your real name?”

He blinked. “…why do you ask?”

“I mean, we’ve been calling you Akechi this whole time, but…thinking about it, it makes sense for you to have changed it. I mean obviously, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just…um, forget it, sorry, I shouldn’t really have asked.”

“It’s fine. I kept my first name, but I obviously couldn’t keep my mother’s surname – not that Shido would have remembered her.” He gritted his teeth, seething. “But I couldn’t take the risk of him recognising me…heh, well, I guess I didn’t need to bother with that after all.” He frowned. “He knew it was me all along, he just…kept playing me for a fool. And I _was_ a fool, wasn’t I?” Ann looked like she was about to say something but he suddenly spluttered out a shaky laugh. “Just an idiot through and through!” He declared wildly, bordering on hysteria. “I got rid of everything that made me like her, even her name – just scrubbed it all away for no _fucking reason_! I’m just…I’m more like _him_ than ever. No wonder he knew who I was.” He clenched his fists tightly. “I couldn’t even do _that_ right! I’m the only thing left of her in this world and I ripped every remnant of her out of me for _his_ sake!” He cried in a brittle tone, shaking violently now, hating how his voice quivered out of a ragged patchwork of anger and fear.

Ann squeezed his trembling hand. “Hey…I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. But…you know, when we faced Shido’s Shadow, he said that you…‘reminded him too much’ of your mom.” She gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. “So…maybe you’re more like her than you think.” She was quiet for a moment as he sniffled and clamped his eyes tightly shut, willing himself to regain control. When he opened his eyes, Ann was offering him a tissue. He sighed in resignation and accepted, wiping his eyes so quickly and roughly it stung a little.

Ann looked thoughtful. “Um…hey, let me know if this is a stupid idea but…would you like me to call you…Goro-kun?”

“Huh?”

“You said you didn’t change your first name. So, um…” She shrugged. “…yeah, okay, maybe not?”

He paused. “…just, um…just do whatever you want. It’s fine.” He said, offering his hand again, not meeting her eyes.

She smiled kindly. “Okay.”

They continued for a while in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Ann occasionally explaining what she was doing, or offering little pieces of advice for getting the smoothest finish possible on the varnish. Watching her work was entrancing, if a little tingly in his fingertips – the sweeping glide of the brush down his nails, leaving a lick of vivid colours behind; the satisfaction of each nail looking perfectly uniform and neat. Ann had plucked a selection of bottles out from the set and alternated between them for each of his fingers – by the time she was finished, his right hand was decked out in a vibrant mix of red and white, while his left hand had alternating dark blues. She went over each one with a clear varnish and nodded in satisfaction when it was done.

“There! You can make it more fancy by doing like, gradients and stuff, but I’m not that good at this so it’d probably look all wonky. Oh, if I’d thought about it I could have got some little jewels or stars or something to stick on, that would look cool! We can do that next time.” She clicked the cap onto the bottle, grinning. “Well, there you go, Goro-kun! Do you like them?”

He tentatively waggled his fingers, satisfied they were dry. “Yes, thank you. Very…colourful.”

“It’s like your Metaverse outfits! I couldn’t decide which one to go with, so hey, one hand for each outfit, why not? Though honestly, I prefer your first one, it makes you look more distinguished. But whatever works for you, Goro-kun!” She giggled, nudging the box of bottles towards him. “Your turn now! I hope you were paying attention.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a fast learner.” He said, tapping the lids of the bottles in thought. He swallowed deeply before continuing, his voice coming out slightly strained. “Takamaki-san…why are you doing this?”

She tilted her head, perplexed. “Hmm?”

“This. Being…nice to me. I mean, you don’t like me, right? I don’t see how you could…don’t get me wrong, it’s very…flattering, all this, the gifts and everything but…” His breath hitched slightly. “…but I don’t…this is a bit uncomfortable for me. I just would rather you would not pretend to be nice for my sake. If you want to…I don’t know, yell at me or something, can you just do that and get it over with? I don’t see the point in dragging this out.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide and incredulous. “…why would I want to yell at you?”

“Oh, okay, fine, maybe not yelling. But just…” He sighed, irritated. “…are you not going to bring up…everything?”

“Why would I do that?”

He spluttered in disbelief. “Wha–I…okay, we’ll continue this game then, shall we? I don’t see what on earth you’re getting out of this, but fine, we’ll just carry on, that’s fine with me…as long as we’re both on the same page about all this…”

“Goro-kun, I really don’t…” She fell silent, her face pensive. “…do you _want_ to talk about what happened before?”

“I…don’t really have any strong preferences, I’m just confused as to why you haven’t brought it up yet. I mean, surely that’s the only reason you’re spending time with me, isn’t it?”

She gave him a tender smile. “No, not really. I think you’ve misunderstood why I invited you out. I don’t really…think we need to talk about everything before, not unless you want to. But I think for me…I’ve really heard everything I need to. I have all the information I need to come up with my opinions on you. And…then I invited you to go shopping, so…I’m sure you can guess my opinions on you from that, right?”

Akechi blinked, astonished.

“I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Goro-kun.” Ann continued, looking as though she was about to squeeze his hand again. He flinched almost as if by instinct, and she stopped, moving back away from him – still with that small, gentle smile on her face. “Um, I guess you’re probably used to people saying nice things to you but not really meaning it, right? I totally get that…in fact I’m pretty used to that myself. But sometimes…there isn’t anything lurking beneath the surface, there’s just…well, there’s just me, I guess. Um…” She frowned. “I…could have worded that better? What I meant was…I’m not hiding anything from you. I’m not…I don’t know, lying to you as part of some grand master plan to upset you or make you feel bad or…I’m just trying to…get to know you, I guess! Honestly, truthfully, genuinely, that’s…that’s all there is to this. There’s no ulterior motive other than just wanting to…understand you better. I promise.”

Akechi squinted. “You know…that’s what people keep saying. That they just want to get to know me or understand me and I just…I don’t know _why_. I don’t know what _about_ me there is to understand that I haven’t already shown you. Or…or if there _is_ something else there, _why_ would you want to get to know it?”

She sighed sadly. “I know it’s hard for you to accept this, but honestly I just…I can’t see you as being so different from myself. From all of us.”

He shook his head desperately. “That’s just…”

“Has anyone ever told you about what happened in Kamoshida’s Palace?” She said, in a firm tone so suddenly rich with conviction and resolve that it made him snap to attention. “When we first started out…Morgana told us there was no guarantee that Kamoshida would survive the change of heart. But we all agreed to do it anyway. We were ready to let him die – no, we were ready to become murderers to see justice delivered. And…part of me really wanted to. When his Shadow was there, in front of us, I was ready to…I _wanted_ to kill him. I just looked at him and thought that this…vile, evil piece of trash drove Shiho to want to kill herself, and I…I wanted him to feel the same fear she felt, that same despair and feeling of hopelessness…I wanted to punish him for everything he did.” She exhaled sharply. “I didn’t…I didn’t actually do it, obviously, but not because I felt pity for him, or because I’m kind. I just thought…he didn’t _deserve_ to only feel that way for just a second before he gets to escape. I wasn’t going to give him an easy way out. I wanted him to _suffer_ , to remember what he’d done – to feel that desperation and misery for the rest of his life.” She sighed softly. “I guess that’s kind of how you felt about Shido, right? He hurt someone you cared about, and you would go to any lengths to see him pay for what he’d done? Even if it meant…” She bowed her head, trailing off into silence.

Akechi did not respond.

Ann shrugged, exasperated. “That’s why I can’t…accept you as anything other than one of us.”

“I’m not like you.” Akechi spat, almost by instinct. “What do I have to do to make you people _understand_? I’m _not_ like you, and I never will be. Don’t treat me like I’m some…poor abandoned orphan who never had a chance, like I could have been like all of you if only those wicked adults hadn’t gotten to me first. I _chose_ to be like this, to go after Shido even at the expense of other people. I chose to betray you all, to try and kill your leader and then try to kill all of you.” He turned away from her sympathetic gaze, clenching his hands into fists to stop himself tearing his hair out – he hated the way Ann looked at him, but most of all he hated how he always, _always_ writhed and squirmed away from the affection he so desperately craved when it was offered so freely, _why_ couldn’t he just let himself _have_ this?

“And then you chose to save us instead.” Ann said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “And then you chose to help us stop Maruki. And then you chose spend time with us.” She tilted her head towards him. “If you knew how things were going to turn out, would you have still done everything the same way?”

“I don’t…that’s not…”

“Play my ‘what if’ game, Goro-kun.”

“I _can’t_.” He snarled. He _wants to_ – God, he so desperately _wants_ to entertain that possibility but like Yusuke had said, the possibility is _more than_ possible, it’s sitting right in front of him, tempting him, _threatening_ to sink its claws into him if he relents for even a second. He can’t. He _won’t_.

Ann sighs, looking frustrated. “Okay, fine, too much. Sorry.” She paused for a second, then gave a small smile. “Can I ask why you came here? I mean, I told you why I invited you out but you haven’t said why you accepted. If you think it’s such a bad idea for you to be here then…why?”

He swallowed, his throat dry. “I don’t even know. I suppose…I suppose maybe I wanted to try and understand you Phantom Thieves too.” He scoffed. “I still don’t. I don’t understand you people at all. And every time I try I just…get even more confused.”

Ann laughed. “Well, that’s okay! We’re all still figuring things out, but we can take our time with it, right?”

He inhaled, then exhaled deeply, smiling wanly. “Right.” Another lie. Time had never been on his side – if only he could have met Ren a few years earlier, if only he had more time now, if only this, if only that. Not possibilities – _im_ possibilities, forbidden things he shouldn’t be concerning himself with.

Ann beamed at him kindly, oblivious to his deception. “Want to try your hand at nail painting now, Goro-kun?” She said, fanning her fingers out with a flourish.

“Right.” He repeated, letting the tension bleed from his posture. He plucked a bottle of a shimmering pastel pink out from the box, taking Ann’s offered hand in his own. “Thanks, Takamaki-san.”

Ann nodded. “It’s okay.”

They returned to more trivial topics of conversation then – in-between Ann guiding him through the steps of nail painting (he obviously picked it up quite quickly) she regaled him with tales of her modelling exploits, her most amusing outfits or disastrous photoshoots – but it was the tale of her struggles when faced with another model called Mika that he found most interesting (he suggested a couple of ways Ann could get back at her and she looked at him, slightly bewildered, before laughing them off – her loss). As he listened to her talk and did his best to make her nails as pretty as possible, he contemplated his initial assessment of her and found it to be lacking. Ann _was_ kind – maybe too kind, but that was what he thought of most if not all of the Phantom Thieves, particularly when it came to dealing with him – but certainly not overly trusting or cloyingly sweet to the point of foolishness. Protective, but not patronising – and he found her strength of character quite admirable. And as she wiggled her fingers out of ticklishness at the strokes of his brush, he couldn’t help but smile slightly. If all his ‘if onlys’ had been what had come to pass, then…well, he wouldn’t object to spending more time with her. Obviously, that wasn’t the reality he was living in, but he allowed himself the very briefest entertainment of the idea as a reward for leaving Ann’s nails looking suitably neat, tidy and dare he say, glamourous – and he did his best to convince himself that he would contemplate the idea no more.

As promised, Ann insisted on commemorating the occasion and pulled him into a selfie with the both of them showing their nails to the camera and flashing a wide grin (Ann) and a bemused smirk (Akechi). Praying that the brim of his hood had disguised most of his embarrassment, he let Ann send the picture to the group chat, and soon his phone was alight with notifications once again – he would have quite the archive to read through later.

As each message was punctuated by a pleased comment from Ann, Akechi inspected his glistening nails more closely.

 _Pointless, and yet._ He thought with a sly smile, pulling his gloves on, still feeling the polish beneath the leather. Pointless, and yet…maybe there was something to be said for an experience that was pointless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies again for the delay in getting this chapter up, i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> you can find me on twitter here: https://twitter.com/atomjenkins (i mostly retweet lots of shuake stuff hehe)
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated!! ^w^


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